BIRDS. 
THE BIRD is little more than a 
drift of the air brought into 
form by plumes; the air is in 
all its quills, it breathes through 
its whole frame and flesh, and glows 
with air in its flying, like a blown 
flame; it rests upon the air, subdues it, 
surpasses it, outraces it — is the air, 
conscious of itself, conquering itself, 
ruling itself. 
Also, into the throat of the Bird is 
given the voice of the air. All that in 
the wind itself is weak, wild, useless in 
sweetness, is knit together in its song. 
As we may imagine the wild form of 
the cloud closed into the perfect form 
of the Bird's wings, so the wild voice 
of the cloud into its ordered and com- 
manded voice; unwearied, rippling 
through the clear heaven in its glad- 
ness, interpreting all intense passion 
through the soft spring nights, burst- 
ing into acclaim and rapture of choir 
at daybreak, or lisping and twittering 
among the boughs and hedges through 
heat of day, like little winds that only 
make the Cowslip bells shake, and 
ruffle the petals of the Wild Rose. 
Also, upon the plumes of the Bird 
are put the colors of the air; on these 
the gold of the cloud, that cannot be 
gathered by any covetousness; the 
rubies of the clouds, the vermilion of 
the cloud-bar, and the flame of the 
cloud-crest, and the snow of the cloud, 
and its shadow, and the melted blue of 
the deep wells of the sky — all these, 
seized by the creating spirit, and woven 
into films and threads of plume; with 
wave on wave following and fading 
along breast and throat and opened 
wings, infinite as the dividing of the 
foam and the sifting of the sea-sand; 
even the white down of the cloud 
seeming to flutter up between the 
stronger plumes, seen, but too soft for 
touch. — Ruskin. 
BIRDS IN STORMS. 
DURING windstorms birds may 
sometimes be seen flying over- 
head at a great height. When 
this is observable, it is said it 
may be taken for granted that the 
upper atmosphere is comparatively 
quiet, and the disturbance is confined 
chiefly to the lower regions. Many 
seabirds seek the upper air of compara- 
tive quietness during tropical hurri- 
canes. A writer in the Boston Tran- 
script says that when a heavy wind or 
gale springs up, the Gulls, Terns and 
Petrels will fly back and forth over the 
water's surface, rising and falling, and 
uttering their peculiar cries of warning. 
If the storm extends too high up they 
will drift gradually with the wind, or 
fly away on the edge of the hurricane. 
Very often they get caught unexpect- 
edly in the gales of wind, and they find 
themselves in a dangerous position. 
Then they struggle with might and 
main against the powers of the air cur- 
rents. Knowing that danger and death 
face them if they once come under the 
dominion of the wind, they use all the 
strength and tactics they are capable 
of to combat the elements. A young 
Herring Gull, a Petrel, or a Tern thus 
surprised will beat up against the wind 
with powerful flight. It will rise high 
in the air, facing the gale, and making 
a little progress forward as well as up- 
ward. Then it will suddenly descend 
with rapid flight toward one side of the 
storm-swept path, but falling off at the 
same time in the direction of the blow- 
ing wind. Once more it will sweep 
around and face the storm, ascending 
heavenwards and striking desperately 
out toward the direction of the storm. 
By pursuing these tactics, the bird will 
gradually work itself to one side of the 
storm centre. 
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