ROBINS ON MIGRATION. 3 



and plump build of the Robin on nights when this bird was 

 captured, and that these birds behaved in a characteristic 

 manner. Unlike many species which career wildly about in 

 the rays before approaching the glass, each suspected Robin flew 

 quietly and almost heavily towards the lantern. Unless it struck 

 it seemed to fly back for a short distance, and then disappear 

 by descending into the abyss of darkness. Moreover, each 

 Robin seemed to make but one effort to reach the glass, failing 

 which it went off with downward flight. So evident was this 

 feature that I never had the opportunity of seeing one strike, 

 as many birds do, in a wildly excited fashion, flutter half- 

 way down, leave the lantern, and come back to repeat this 

 performance, or to strike against the iron framework, the 

 balcony railings, or other parts of the lighthouse, and thereby 

 allow me to become familiar with the species, and soon to be 

 able to identify it. 



Not one of the six Robins was identified by me until they 

 were brought to hand. The above considerations lead me to 

 think that the Robin is one of those species which may not be 

 so susceptible as some others to the dazzling influence of the 

 luminous beams. In succeeding articles I hope to point out, in 

 dealing with particular birds, that their behaviour at the lantern 

 is highly characteristic. Here, however, I can only refer to two 

 birds which, given the same meteorological conditions, behave 

 very differently under the sway of the lantern's glare. The 

 Starling becomes a perfect fool, and insists on flying with full — 

 or at all events considerable — force against the glass. If it does 

 not kill itself outright or render itself unconscious, it will, with 

 loud clattering of feet and wings, come fluttering down the lantern. 

 If captured and liberated, it usually comes back with great force, 

 and, if not already incapacitated, will repeat this performance till 

 it falls dead or exhausted on the balcony or rock. The Swallow, 

 on the other hand, will fly for hours — even all night, and in thick, 

 misty weather — round and round the lantern, and in and out and 

 up and down the path of the rays, and yet avoid the glass in a 

 most marvellous manner. To return to the aerial movements of 

 the Robin in the vicinity of the lantern, I would say that its 

 advent is mainly a sign of fatigue. I do not say for a moment 

 that such is not the case in many other birds, but it appears 



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