e gull would
fare ill were it compelled to traverse the ocean with such brief spurts of
speed, while, on the other hand, the last bob-white would shortly vanish,
could it escape from fox or weasel only with the slow flight of a gull.
How splendidly the sickle wings of a swift enable it to turn and twist,
bat-like, in its pursuit of insects!

You may be able to identify any bird near your home, you may know its nest
and eggs, its song and its young; but begin at the beginning again and
watch their wings and their feet and their bills and you will find that
there are new and wonderful truths at your very doorstep. Try bringing
home from your walk a list of bill-uses or feet-functions. Remember that a
familiar object, looked at from a new point of view, will take to itself
unthought-of significance.

Whither midst falling dew,
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way?
William Cullen Bryant.

THE BIRDS IN THE MOON

The lover of birds who has spent the day in the field puts away his
glasses at nightfall, looking forward to a walk after dark only as a
chance to hear the call of nocturnal birds or to catch the whirr of a
passing wing. But some bright moonlight night in early May, or again in
mid September, unsheath your glasses and tie them, telescope-fashion, to a
window-ledge or railing. Seat yourself in an easy position and focus on
the moon. Shut out all earthly scenes from your mind and imagine yourself
wandering amid those arid wastes. What a scene of cosmic desolation! What
vast deserts, and gaping craters of barren rock! The cold, steel-white
planet seems of all things most typical of death.

But those specks passing across its surface? At first you imagine they are
motes clogging the delicate blood-vessels of the retina; then you wonder
if a distant host of falling meteors could have passed. Soon a larger,
nearer mote appears; the moon and its craters are forgotten and with a
thrill of delight you realise that they are birds--living, flying
birds--of all earthly things typical of the most vital life! Migration is
at its height, the chirps and twitters which come from the surrounding
darkness are tantalising hints telling of the passing legions. Thousands
and thousands of birds are every night pouring northward in a swift,
invisible, aerial stream.