Notes of the night, and other outdoor sketches, by Charles Conrad Abbott ...

Field: Earth and Planetary Sciences (Physical Sciences)

motes of tbe Iftfgbt may be low down, and the base spread well along the horizon ; or it may be narrow, with the apex nearly overhead, and so quite like an aurora.This is the zodiacal light, a glow, it is said, "from clouds of meteoric matter revolving around the sun."It is, whatever its true character, a matter of uncertainty as a twilight phenomenon, and sel- dom does it re-light the landscape except for a brief moment.The world again dimly stands out, while it lasts, and then the darkness of the night.These are matters of the universe and our little world plays a pitifully small part in them ; but, if our learned men are not wrong, a strictly local disturbance may affect the twilights of regions thousands of miles away.It is a miserable plan to cry "coincidence" because an explanation seems to us improbable, and a great deal of igno- rance is due to our obstinacy.In August, 1883, there was a terrible volcanic outburst at Krakatua; an island was destroyed and great local disturb- ance caused.Here, in the valley of the Delaware, two months later, and from that time until the early spring of 1884, we were favored with from three to seven beautiful rosy twilights every week, and an afterglow that lingered for hours, with a ruddy tinge over the western sky and a bright green eastern horizon.There would be some variation from this, at times, but not often, if we except sudden flashes of ruddy light, that sug- 3 motee of tbe IKfgbt gested a nearby conflagration.The entire autumn was thus signalized; but not until the first week in January, more than four months after the dis- aster in the South Pacific, was the climax reached.Often the night was more beautiful, if less brilliant, than the sunny day.We had no red snow, but rosy fields and great, white, staring stars, that in the green sky had a frightened look.These strange twilights and pale nights were due, it is said, to the dust thrown into space and floating around the earth.There is no reason to doubt this, and while we want no volcanoes to blot out islands and sweep men by thousands into eternity, we will welcome the dust they raise, if raised beyond our atmosphere.This part of the world is not particularly blessed ; it needs all the rosy tints that it can get.My best remembered walk, those winter nights, was early in January, 1884.The blackness of night was overhead, but its gloom was dispelled by the brightness of many stars.In the west, all was rosy, and the east claimed equal splendor, with its brilliant green.The fringe of the black curtain did not reach the earth, but moved with me as I walked, ever directly above, always threat- ening to enwrap the world, but held back until after midnight by the glowing glories of the hori- zon.It was indeed a most strange time ; and it bewildered every bird of the day as greatly as it did the night-wandering owls.Wild life was all fflotee of tbe IRfgbtThe attempt to banish timidity by having a companion is never a success.We may see no reason why wild life should resent the presence of two and not object to that of one person, but this, in my experience, seems to be true.Cer- tainly there is twice the noise; an overpowering desire to talk; a doubling in fact of every pos- sible objection.To my mind a successful stroll must be taken alone.Fewer night-prowling animals will crouch in the darker corners while you pass by, if they have but yourself to watch and guard against.But to my walk: I had not proceeded far when an animal as large as a domestic cat ap- peared to cross my path.I stopped for a mo- ment, and then another came in view.Not seeing distinctly the direction from which they came, I moved slowly forward, and saw still another of these black creatures cross the road.Were they dogs on a still hunt?I did not dare admit to myself that I wished myself away; and, taking a few steps forward, I saw that there was a long procession of these supposed animals, not moving, but fixed as the hills beyond them.They were the tops of fence-posts projecting above the snow.Had I turned back, which was my first impulse, I could have sworn I had seen several animals moving over the snow.So much for the tricks darkness plays with half-timid humanity.It occasionally happens that suddenly, without motes of tbc flfgbt a shadow of warning, the darkness is dissipated by waves of colored light, the stars grow pale, and day, without daylight, returns.This is the aurora a meteoric phenomenon of such magnitude that we can not only see it but hear it.We are told that now the magnetic needle is disturbed, and we have noticed how the bright flashes and strange rustling like a silken garment have twisted weak minds out of sane paths.I have witnessed hundreds of auroras and noted their peculiarities, but not one, for general in- terest, equaled, that of March 30, 1894.It would be mere folly to attempt a description.There was much color, some crackling noise, and a flickering light on the earth's surface about equal to that of the moon when full.The center of illumination continually shifted, and once my companion remarked : " See, Orion is taking an electric bath."Curious to ascertain what, if any, impression such an occurrence would have upon animal life, I hurried to the nearest available point, a long reach of the river shore, where the stream was wide and the banks well wooded.The birds were all awake, and I heard one song sparrow sing its full song, while a whole host of small birds twittered excitedly in the evergreens.Fortunately there was no moon, and as the au- rora came and went with startling abruptness, the agitation was more marked among these roosting birds than would have been caused by a steady motes of tbe light.It was really affecting to hear the faint chirping as darkness spread over the scene and the birds settled again to rest, only to be again disturbed and frightened by darting and rattling tongues of colored light, yellow, blue, pink, and green.It was to me a curious rather than beau- tiful sight.It was unnatural, disturbing, and out of place: the clatter and clash of machinery when some important part is broken.The effect of alternating light and darkness upon the river was more marked than upon the land, and one brief interval was so wild and weird that I shall never forget it.I stood upon a broad stone that the incoming tide was slowly covering, and heard in the darkness the sobbing of little waves that broke at my feet, and when some larger ripple, tipped with starlight, broke over the stone, it seemed as charged with the auroral light as the cloud-flecked sky had been but a moment before.Then followed silence and darkness, out of which came strange cries that I did not recognize, so great was my surprise.As I listened, the aurora returned with all its vividness and illuminating power.The river, and even the opposite shore, could be seen, and directly in front of me three great blue herons were slowly flying up-stream, and the air all about them was filled with bewil- dered killdees.The long dark bodies of the herons and silvery glisten of the plover stood out with marvelous distinctness while they re- 13 motes ot tbe mained in sight, and the clear call of the smaller birds, when again plunged in darkness they wan- dered they knew not where, sounded as strangely, as un-birdlike and despairing as the whispering of the hollow wind.As it neared midnight, the aurora lost its brilliancy, and the chilly air, for it was March and the sting of winter not yet drawn, suggested shelter.Mere repetition would not have proved more suggestive.It is possible to look too long at one object.We can cloy the brain as readily as the palate.Much might be said of night-flying birds.We know that migration occurs largely between sun- set and sunrise ; but I refer to the effect of such '3 flnbey '5 Actinism of spring light, 47 Apple trees,