Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-11-03
SOUTHWARD THE CRY.
The March of the Birds Strewn
 with Dead and Wounded.
Great Flocks of Birds Making for the South - How Thousands of Them Meet Their Fate-Scene from
 Lighthouse Lantern.
IcoPYRIGHr, 1S91.l

his head. Many one living in cities hears tempest of wings pass far above in the dead of night. Of late the de- partment of agriculture at Washington has given much attention to the sub ject of bird migration and has sent out circulars to lighthouse keepers asking them to fill in blanks naming the birds that strike the lanterns in spring and fall, and if they do not know the name they are requested to forward the wing and head.
 It is estimated that during the march ing season which is now at it's height many millions of birds pass southward every night. They come from every part of the north and fly five or six hun dred miles without resting.
 The birds that fly in the night rest and feed during the day along the route. The night flyers, as a rule, live in coverts in the north, and they are afraid to expose themselves in daylight in large numbers; but those that haunt open places mount high into the air at sunrise and fly till dark.
 The birds that live in the woods or browse wait till dusk, then you hear a hurricane of wings. They rise often one or two miles, and some times three, hover among the clouds, and then, hay ing determined their course, speed on- ward. They hardly ever set out on a night when no stars are visible, for it is by these, undoubtedly, that they are guided to the greatest extent.
 Sometimes storm arises when they are miles up in the air; the stars are plotted out and they lose their way. Then they are driven before the gale for miles, but they select piece of for est, where they perch and wait until the weather clears. If the weather is fine they tarry at each stopping place for several days, frolicking and chasing one another through the air and filling the air with their cries. But the first tinge of cold in the wind sets them off again to warmer region, where they feed and scream and whistle and sing till gray frost appears or bitter northern wind begins to pipe. Some birds travel six thousand miles every spring and fall, going from northerly parts of Greenland to the tropic of Capricorn.
 The wild goose, the barnacle goose and the brant can each fly from five to seven hundred miles without resting, and they are now crossing the gulf of St. Lawrence every day in hundreds of thousands. They assemble in large bodies on the headlands in Newfound- land when the weather begins to grow cold, and wait for fair wind which is a northeaster. The geese and brants like to set out in the morning, but some times the wind veers, fog arises from
 the sea, smothering the sun in the day and the stars at night, and they become bewildered. Captains of schooners that sail across the gulf in spring and fall, frequently find from a score to hum dred of wild geese in the morning, crouching on the deck, hatches, railings and booms. These birds will not alight
 in the sea, and become perfectly tame
 by bewilderment and terror; and the
 deck hands kill them with gaffs.
 A large majority of the migratory , birds journey by night, and anyone in terested in the subject whether he live
 in the city or the country will be able to know when congregation is pass
 Ing. The expert, moreover, can deter
 mine from the whistles and calls what species of bird comprises the passing
 flock. They do not whistle or sing a'
 they do in the woods, but usually give
 out one or two notes which are intended
 as signals to keep the army together
 The bobolink for example crie
 "Spink," 'Spink;" the kingisher give
 a hoarse screech though he laughs anC
 chatters when not in passage; th'
 woodpecker screams and the duck give
 resonant quack.
 Some of the birds of passage adop
 special routes and go by these ever. year. There are probably from fifteel to twenty million birds now movin down the valley of the Mississippi; vas numbers pass along the skirt of tn Rocky mountains, and the air at nigh is thronged with them along bot l shores of the continent.
 The light keepers now are sending i | some very interesting stories about tn J birds. Two keepers on Long island te me that on dark and stormy night
 week ago thousands of birds were a
 tracted, and that the lanterns we1
 fairly pelted with them. Hundred n of them lay dead at the bases ( d the towers in the morning and man Id dead and wounded ones were seen foa a ing in the sea. I have spent son Id nights in the lanterns with the keeper to and those that were dark and storm ie brought the largest crowds of bird
 Some of them approached the ligl K carefully, flying round and round ar Id then, steadyingthemselves peered wit P wide, wonder-striclsen eyes in throue Us the glass.
 Numbers of them flying in a b wildered way struck the lantern with ss heavy, sousing sound and fell bac el wards as if shot. The concussion xii at them instantly, for they strike head frs
 Ducks, guiIlemot, gulls and other lar;
 birds kill themselves as readily again ne the glass as robins, thrushes, warbler Ae sparrows or peewees.
 nd But what medley of feathered ere lls tion comes to glare in at the light 'ie There were gulls, with their bead-li ns eyes and yellow bills, hawks, eaglt no crows, snipe, blower, curlew, every O ng of them looking frightened, sor - screaming and many of them trying
 hang on to the lantern bars.
 'D- From the lighthouses I went to t