Driving further on, we inquired of a man where the Crows roosted, and were assured that they made use of a long strip of woods lying between us and the river. Investigation, however, showed not a Crow in the wood, and we were inclined to believe that we had been purposely misled. Passing through the trees, we had an unobstructed view of the river. The sun was just setting, a round, red ball of fire in the west, and in the yellow light we could see the lines of Delaware Crows crossing towards us, while in the fields before us were hundreds of Crows lazily flapping about much as the others were in the corn-field to the east.
Here, again, we were directed back to the same wood and assured that the birds would repair there when ready. It was just dusk as we hitched our horse and entered the woods; there was still no sign of Crows, but as we emerged on the farther side we found that an immense flight was just beginning to pass overhead from the westward; evidently the river Crows had concluded that bedtime had come. They did not, however, alight in the trees, but passed over and dropped noiselessly into the low fields just before us, seeming to select a black, burnt area on the far side. To our amazement this "burnt" patch proved to be a solid mass of Crows sitting close together, and in the gathering gloom it was difficult to see how far it extended. Four immense flights of the birds were now pouring into the fields, in one of which we estimated that 500 Crows passed overhead per minute, during the height of the flight.
It was now quite dark, and we began to think that the birds had no intention of retiring to the woods, so determined to vary the monotony of the scene and at the same time warm our chilled bodies. We, therefore, ran rapidly toward the nearest birds and shouted together just as they first took wing. The effect was marvellous; with a roar of wings the whole surface of the ground seemed to rise. The birds hovered about a minute, and then entered the woods; we soon saw that but a small portion of the assemblage had taken wing. Those farther off had not seen us in the darkness, and doubtless thought that this was merely the beginning of the regular nightly retirement into the trees. The movement, once started, became contagious, and the Crows arose steadily section by section. The bare branches of the trees which stood out clearly against the western sky but a minute before seemed to be clothed in thick foliage as the multitude of birds settled down.
After all had apparently entered the roost, we shouted again and the roar of wings was simply deafening; another shout brought the same result in undiminished force, and even then, probably not half the birds took wing.
They soon settled down again, and we were glad to leave them in peace. So far as we could learn they are but little molested, and let us hope that this may continue. Many of the large roosts farther north in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, seem to be rapidly decreasing in size, owing to thoughtless persecution, and eventually the poor birds may be driven to roost in scattered detachments, as would, indeed, seem best for their preservation; but if this comes to pass, one of the most impressive phenomena of our bird-life will have disappeared.
[Winter Bird Notes from Southern New Hampshire]
BY WILLIAM EVERETT CRAM
Illustrated by the author
