179 
BIRDS OF PASSAGE 
Splashes of yellow on the Maples and darkening red 
on the Oaks are the signals along the great aerial 
highway from the remote north. The broods of the 
season, grown to maturity in the close bounds of their 
habitations, nurtured and fed by attentive parents 
who did not travel more than a few yards from home, 
are now led and guided into a new and vast world 
in response to the signals of a changing landscape. 
In their long night flights the green and gold are 
indistinguishable, and they see only the alternating 
of land and water, with the feeble reaching up of 
lights from the spots where restless humanity 
congregates. But during the daily rest they hurry 
among the changing and leisurely falling leaves of the 
tall trees or settle down under the bright red feathers 
of the Sumach, where the poison ivy in tints of flame 
seeks to redeem its evil reputation. 
White Throats in large numbers are passing over, 
about, and through the city, busily gathering daily 
supplies among the falling leaves. Some have the 
three white lines on their heads clearly distinct, while 
others show only a tawny promise of white in the 
advancing season. All show the distinguishing white 
throat and the eager, coy activity that gives them a 
