Read Ebook: The Migration of Birds by Coward T A Thomas Alfred

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Mr Chapman's remarks about the upward flight of some of the birds are enlightening, for when birds start on oversea journeys they frequently ascend to a great height. Dr Allen and others think that the ascent is to increase the visible distance, but it may also be to reach a zone or stratum of atmosphere in which flight may be more easily accomplished. Robert Service's account of the departure of migrants from the Solway shores, gives suggestion of high flight. They arrive often one by one and "seem to drop literally from the clouds," but when they actually departed it was easy to see their method. They "fly upwards and onwards, then they hesitate, fly sideways once or twice, again attempt an upward and onward flight, hesitate again, and down they come once more to earth." After repeating this manoeuvre several times, "away they go over the sea." One morning he counted sixty blackbirds in one hedge, and others kept arriving, but, however closely he watched, he failed to see whence they came. "They came down from the upper air, becoming suddenly visible, sometimes three at a time." "I saw about a dozen birds thus drop into view, but I quite failed to see any indication of the point of the compass from whence they had come" .

G?tke frequently mentions birds raining down from the sky, appearing first as mere specks, and dropping vertically to the island, and others when departing "with breasts directed upwards and rapid powerful strokes of the wings, fly almost perpendicularly upwards."

On May 24th, 1911, I watched the departure of a spoonbill from Easton Broad on the Suffolk coast. The bird rose and soared in ever-widening circles until it was a mere speck, even when seen through powerful prismatic glasses; the great stretch of its wings alone enabled me to watch it for so long. When at a great height--I will not guess what elevation--it ceased its circling flight and made straight for the north.

In October I saw several flocks of redwings leave the Spurn. They rose to a great height before directing their flight southwards, although the Lincolnshire coast was plainly visible.

Great differences of opinion have been expressed about the speed of migrating birds, and here again G?tke's estimates, on account of the weakness of his arguments and his immense presumption, cannot be seriously considered. There are but few measured speeds, and most of these, except perhaps the ducks and geese referred to already, are of birds travelling at low elevations.

Allowing this, and also taking into consideration the undoubted fact that birds are frequently held up by strong winds on the shore before starting oversea journeys, is there any proof that they do not actually avail themselves of fairly steady strong winds when they reach the upper air?

Mr F. J. Stubbs makes some useful suggestions . He points out that G?tke and others imagine that a bird flying with the wind would suffer inconvenience through the wind ruffling up its feathers. It is surely evident that a bird supported in a moving medium could not progress at any slower rate than that medium; the bird is not flying on one stratum of air with another moving with a different speed immediately above it; it is actually in a current, not on it. If the bird flies at 20 miles an hour, and the wind or moving air is progressing at 10 miles an hour, the bird will cover a distance of 30 miles in one hour, though the force exerted by the bird is the force necessary for 20 miles in a calm. Conversely, if a 10-mile air current meets it, it will unconsciously be carried only 10 miles. If the speed of the bird is the same as the opposing force of the wind, it will remain stationary; I have seen ducks in a blizzard rise head to wind and fly rapidly, making no progress but maintaining their position over the water, to which they dropped again when the storm passed. Some black-headed gulls on the same water did not attempt this manoeuvre, and in a few seconds had vanished down wind. The swimmer, in a swiftly-flowing river, may hold himself in position so long as he can swim at the same rate as the stream he is contending with, but he cannot make headway if the speed of the water exceeds his. He may, however swiftly the stream moves, swim in any direction, but his actual progress will be down stream; if he aims to swim directly across, his real course will be diagonal.

The fact that birds fly in any direction in a wind, and when at low elevation pay little heed to the direction of the wind, when the breeze is light, simply means that they can fly faster than the medium they are in; if the medium travels faster than they do, they will be carried in it to their advantage or disadvantage.

Even in these days of upper-air investigation we really know very little about the speed, direction and steadiness of upper-air currents, but we do know that at a moderate elevation--some two or three thousand feet--the strength is usually greater than nearer the earth.

Mr Abel Chapman, in "Wild Norway," makes this pertinent remark--"Except by aid derived from the operation of physical laws, the nature and extent of which are unknown to me, and by taking advantage of 'Trade-wind' circulation in the upper air, I believe that migration is impossible for short-winged forms of sedentary habits--but that aid, and those advantages, may facilitate, and perhaps vastly accelerate, a process which is otherwise impossible."

A warbler flying leisurely, say at 10 miles per hour, in a current of air which was travelling at 20 or more miles an hour, could accomplish the journey across the North Sea--say 300 miles, in ten hours. Allowing much higher rates of speed for strong-winged species, and greater force of wind, some of the marvellous distances covered by migrating birds cease to be mysterious. Prof. J. Stebbins and Mr E. A. Fath made careful calculations from observations with the telescope, and found that birds passed at rates varying from 80 to 130 miles per hour, and these were the minimums, for if the birds were not flying absolutely at right angles with the line of observation, they must have travelled a greater distance in the time occupied between their passage of the observation points .

ORIENTATION AND ROUTE FINDING

The question, How do birds find their way? is answered by many ingenious and often purely speculative theories, some of which have been already referred to in connection with the points discussed.

Each theory, though it may apparently explain certain phases of migration, can be answered by some exceptional difficulty which makes it fail as a full explanation; we are driven to the conclusion that birds possess a sense of direction, which is often, very incorrectly, called Orientation. Biologically this term does not imply any connection with the East, but is simply used to describe the power of finding the way back to a certain base, or of returning home. It is a power or sense which undoubtedly exists in many vertebrate animals and in some invertebrates, though it is hard, in many cases, to separate or distinguish it from memory and impression gained through eyesight. Mr John Burroughs, one of the strongest opponents of what he calls the "Sentimental School of Nature Study," gives in his "Ways of Nature" a striking instance of this faculty which may serve as an example, though the cases of dogs and cats amongst domestic animals, and of many wild creatures finding their way, could fill many volumes. His son brought a drake home in a bag from a farm 2 miles away, and shut it up in a barn with two ducks for a day and a night. As soon as it was released it turned its head homewards, but for three or four days its efforts were frustrated. Then Mr Burroughs decided to see what the drake would do, and to go with it to give it "fair play." The "homesick mallard started up through the currant patch, then through the vineyard towards the highway which he had never seen," and Mr Burroughs followed 50 yards behind. A dog scared the bird and turned it up a lane, but after a detour it reached the road again; it stopped to bathe in a roadside pool, then started off again refreshed. A lane, leading in the right direction off the main road, puzzled it, and it took a wrong turning, but, discovering its mistake, made for the road again, but not by actually retracing its steps. The false move seemed to put it out, for after hesitating at the next and right turning, it actually overshot the mark. Its companion, unable to spare time to continue the experiment, then headed it back, and when it reached the turning again it seemed to recognise something familiar and raced home with evident signs of joy.

The duck was a domesticated bird, but the incident is not without interest; the homing faculty was clearly exhibited, but it was not infallible; the bird made a mistake. So, inexperienced young birds, travelling instinctively by orientation may, and do, make mistakes.

Human beings, in varying degree, possess a sense of direction, and some a wonderful power of finding their way in strange places; it is most marked amongst those men we choose to call uncivilised, who, indeed, live in closer touch with nature than those of us who depend so much on compass, map, road, train and tram; we, as path-finders, are degenerate. Middendorf marvelled at the powers of the Samoyeds, but when he questioned them was met by blank surprise, and the cross-question--"How does the little Arctic fox find its way aright on the great Tundra?"

In addition to this instinctive power, the bird has eyes and brain. We can afford to put aside as purely speculative Middendorf's suggestion that the bird is impelled or dragged by magnetic force, but we cannot deny that it uses its eyes and that it has a wonderful memory; its second journey will be easier than the first, for it will recognise landmarks, just as the drake recognised something familiar when it neared home. Sight, however, cannot be always necessary, for, at the Kentish Knock Lightship, Mr Eagle Clarke noticed that birds flew so low along the water that they could not possibly have seen their way.

It is purely speculative to say that the young bird which travels alone, for it seems certain that many young do travel unguided on their first journey, has an inherited memory of the actual route to be followed, but that it has an hereditary sense of direction, or an hereditary impulse to travel in a certain direction, is quite another matter. The sea, to the young bird, may be a barrier; it may wander coastwise and be lost, or, if this is the best way, find itself at the desired haven. If the shortest and quickest way is across the ocean, the young bird may brave the perils and succeed, or on this trackless waste it may wander till it sinks to the waves and be added to the long list of failures.

Certain species summer in Greenland either in the same areas or in areas comparatively near to one another; some of these travel in autumn south-east, and winter in Europe or Africa, and others go south-west into the States or South America. Most of these are distinctly eastern or western forms, but occasionally American birds are met with in Europe, and European in America. Probably at the start these stragglers joined the wrong band, and travelled for company and unconsciously by the wrong route. Birds drifted to leeward may find companions of quite an alien tribe; others, wind-swept in this way, may travel alone to new lands. A few pelagic South Pacific and South Atlantic petrels and other birds have reached Europe from time to time, but theirs is an error of too wide nomadic wandering. The wonder is not that these stragglers do turn up, but that so few are noticed; probably the frequent mistakes made by inexperienced or even experienced birds are speedily rectified by nature; failure to find food or exhaustion spells death.

Mr C. Dixon emphatically declares that each party of young birds is accompanied by one or more older ones to act as guides--"The many winter'd crow that leads the clanging rookery home." This is as emphatically denied by other observers. Probably there is no regular rule for many species, as there certainly is not for swallows, in which the old and young birds can be easily distinguished. I have seen bands trailing south in autumn in which all the birds were immature, and others in which a number of young were accompanied by a few mature birds, though, certainly, these old birds did not appear to lead. Another assertion, that the old and young do not even travel by the same route rather supports the idea that the young birds find their way simply by a sense of direction, a sense liable to blunder, whilst the old birds travel by the perfected or best route which their experience has taught them. Martorelli wisely asserts that orientation is not infallible, but develops with age.

Mach-Bruer attempted to localise this sense of direction in the semicircular canals of the ear, which are so highly developed in birds, but Dr Allen contends that the theory has been refuted by experiments on pigeons. M?bius urged that birds were guided in their journey by the direction of the roll of the waves; Newton replies that though this may be a constant direction in certain parts of the Pacific, it is most inconstant in the stormy North Atlantic .

There is a very generally accepted idea that birds prefer to travel with the wind striking them diagonally--the "beam-wind theory," a theory, which so far as I can see, has absolutely no sound foundation. When on the Kentish Knock Lightship, Mr Eagle Clarke noticed, on a bad day, east to west migrants hurrying past "as if to avoid as much as possible the effects of the high-beam wind."

Mr A. H. Clark worked out the long oversea and overland course followed by the American golden plover, and showed to his own satisfaction that the birds always travelled at right angles to the prevailing winds; therefore, he argued, they were guided by the beam-winds; always keeping the wind on their flanks led them aright . He says that if they fly at 100 miles per hour, with a beam-wind of 30 miles per hour, they will reach a spot 100 miles from whence they started, but 30 miles to leeward of a line drawn at right angles to the wind. Thus, if they rely upon the wind, their course is more or less diagonally across it according to its strength. He maps out the supposed route according to prevailing winds, but fails to notice that the very route he maps may be caused simply by the leeward drift when flying on winds which are not with them. One portion of the journey is enough to illustrate what I mean. From Labrador to the east of Bermuda the birds fly south-east, so, he argues, as to cross the south-west wind at right angles. But supposing the birds headed due south, meeting the south-west wind on their right front, they would of necessity, if the wind was strong, drift away to the east. It is improbable that they actually aim to strike the Bermudas, for it is only during certain weather conditions that they visit these islands. In favourable weather the birds do not touch the Bermudas, but continue their flight direct to South America.

"Besides hooded crows, many other, indeed perhaps all species, are capable of executing a laterally-directed movement of flight of this nature, not only under such compulsory conditions as they may encounter during the flight of migration, but also during the ordinary activities of their daily life" . He admits that he once thought it was a drift to leeward, but that he is now convinced that it is intentional, and is sure proof of his East to West flight. In the face of such absurd statements as these, how can anyone quote G?tke as an authority on migration! Yet, in recently-published books, this east to west flight across Heligoland to Yorkshire is stated to be a proved fact, though Mr Eagle Clarke, so long ago as 1896, showed it to be unsupported by British evidence.

Dr Allen, reviewing Dr H. E. Walter's "Theories of Bird Migration" , cites the following experiments as strong arguments in favour of orientation. Dr J. B. Watson took fifteen sooty and noddy terns from Bird Key, Tortugas, and liberated them at intervals after they had been marked. The shortest distance was 20 miles from the Key, the farthest, Cape Hatteras, 850 miles; thirteen returned to the Key. Neither sooty nor noddy terns range, as a rule, north of the Florida Keys, so that it is unlikely that any of the birds had been over the route before. They could have gained no experience, or hereditary knowledge, and as they were released during the breeding season, there would be no marked movement southward which they might follow, nor would they at that time be impelled by any desire to migrate. The change of direction from the Florida Keys, westward, to the Tortugas, occasioned by the water course which feeding habits would force them to follow, "removes the direction of the wind as a guiding agency, whilst the absence of landmarks over the greater portion of the journey makes it improbable that sight was of service in finding the way."

THE DISTANCES TRAVELLED BY BIRDS

Not only do the distances of the migration paths of different species vary considerably, from a trip of a few miles to a voyage from the Arctic to the Antarctic, but the individuals of one and the same species do not all travel to the same degree.

Our swallow and its congeners have an almost cosmopolitan range, summering in the Northern and wintering in the Southern Hemisphere or comparatively near to the Equator in the Northern. Towards the centre of its range its migrations are either short or the bird is non-migratory.

Mr W. L. Sclater, addressing the South African Ornithologists' Union , stated that the swallow arrives at Cape Town at the end of October, and is common from November to March; practically all have left by the middle of April. Swallows begin to arrive from the south in Africa north of the Sahara in the latter half of February; early in March they reach southern Europe, later in the same month they are in Central Europe and by the middle of April large numbers arrive in England. Thus swallows leave South Africa actually after they have arrived in England; the South African birds cannot be the same which are in North Africa a month earlier! The swallow supports Seebohm's thesis that the individuals which go farthest to the south in winter, breed farthest north. A day-migrant and by no means a rapid one, the swallow may be timed from place to place, and it is not presumption to suggest that the birds which reach Britain to nest came from lands little south of the Sahara and well north of the Equator, and that those which pass through England and along our shores in May and even June are on their way from Southern Africa to the northernmost limits of their range. Mr Sclater points out one very interesting fact; when the swallow reaches South Africa it is in ragged worn plumage, before it begins its northward journey it passes through its one annual moult.

Waders and shore birds which reach South Africa in autumn--the spring of the Cape--are moulting into winter dress; before they leave they have often assumed or partially assumed the breeding dress. When they arrive the native South African birds are breeding, but though Mr Sclater thinks that some nest a second time in the south, no satisfactory evidence has ever been brought forward to support the suggestion. These long-distance travellers not only move from a zone of moderate temperature to a warmer one, but many of them pass through the hotter zone to a country having a similar temperature to the one in which they bred, thus enjoying summer but not torrid heat all the year round.

The order in spring is yet unproved. "With many birds ... the first individuals to appear in spring at a given locality are supposed to be old birds that nested there the previous year." These are followed by those which nested a little farther north, followed later by those whose homes are in the most northerly part of the range. "If, then, for any species, the southern nesting birds lead the van in both fall and spring migration, and the near guard in each case is composed of northern breeding birds, it follows that some time between October and April a transposal of their relative positions occurs; and that the more southern birds pass over the more northern ones, which delay their migration, knowing that winter still holds sway in their summer dominions." It is not known where this transposal takes place, nor whether the northern birds remain in winter quarters till the southern birds have passed, or start a slow migration, during which the southern birds pass over them. Later another transposal occurs; the northern birds cross the southern part of the range, passing birds which are already nesting. "Spring migration seems to be therefore for some species a game of leapfrog--the southern birds first passing the northern, and the northern passing them in turn" .

The custom, now fortunately becoming widespread, of marking birds by affixing a numbered metal ring to one leg, may help to elucidate this and many other problems, but until a large number of results are collected it is unwise to draw conclusions. Almost every month the recovery of some of these marked birds is noted in the scientific journals, but so far, beyond indicating the minimum distance travelled by individuals, little can be proved. It is, however, plain that birds do not invariably act as they ought to do if they obeyed all the laws which have been invented for them. A few records or results may be quoted, but any suggestions from these must be treated as suggestions only; many more must be forth-coming before we can say, proved.

Seven Prussian and about a dozen Hungarian birds have been obtained in winter quarters in the Transvaal, Natal, and other parts of south Africa, and one in German south-west Africa; one, recovered in the July following the summer in which it was marked, was possibly a weakling bird which had failed to make the return journey. Storks which had returned are recorded in their first, second and third summer; most of them having been found within a few miles of their birthplace. One bird, marked as a nestling near Brunswick in 1906 was reported in June 1908 from Sorquitten in East Prussia, over 430 miles away. Mr Thomson, from his reference to this being roughly in the same latitude but reached by a different "line of flight," suggests that it is an exception; this will be shown when some hundreds more cases have been collected. It may, however, be found that some birds deliberately launch forth in search of new homes, though at present it looks more like a bird which on approaching the breeding area had banded itself with the wrong local body of travellers.

A bird marked at Cassel in western Germany has been recorded from Barcelona in Spain; this so far single record may indicate that storks get lost, that there is no regular direction, or that there is more than one, a south-westerly as well as a south-easterly route. That too, we hope, will be shown in the future.

That much will be learnt from storks is evident, but the lessons will be only general; each migratory species must be treated separately, and to some extent this is being done. In the opening chapter I mentioned the uncertainty about the behaviour of any individual song thrush, merely as an example. So far, the few records of marked song thrushes add to rather than solve this problem. Years ago the song thrush was looked upon as a permanent resident so far as Britain was concerned. Then it was found to be migratory even in Britain, and it was suggested that each song thrush performed a short migration, southern British birds leaving the country, northern British retiring to winter in the south of England, and northern European birds replacing these as autumn immigrants. The study of local races quickly altered this opinion; it was guessed that in Britain there was a sedentary insular race and a migratory passage race; others, however, saw that some of our home-bred birds left in autumn. What do we find? A song thrush, marked as a nestling in July in Northumberland, is found in November in Durham; another one, marked in Berkshire travels to Norwich and is recorded in November, but a third, born in Aberdeen takes an autumnal flight of at least 1500 miles and is found in Portugal. Evidently we cannot yet frame any rule for our British-bred birds.

It is said that home-bred lapwings are somewhat sedentary, and that the large winter flocks are composed of Continental immigrants. The frequent westward migration of lapwings during exceptionally severe winter weather has led to the supposition that these birds fly for refuge, under these circumstances, to Ireland. This is true, so far as it goes, but a lapwing marked as a nestling near Stirling has been found in the south of France, and two others in Portugal, whilst five have been recovered in Ireland.

The results of marking sea-birds are interesting, showing that the young birds often wander northward in search of food before there is any marked autumnal southward migration. Terns and black-headed gulls have been found a month or more after they have left the nest to the north of their breeding colonies in Cumberland and mid-Wales. A bird from Ravenglass was taken in its first January in Brittany. Rossitten black-heads have been shot in the Isle of Wight and in Breydon in Norfolk.

This may only mean that the young blackhead is a confirmed wanderer in search of food, but the few results with woodcocks, marked as British-bred nestlings, are puzzling. They have been known to linger in the neighbourhood of their home until November, and have been found in Portugal only a month later. Birds marked at Tyrone have been found so far apart as Cornwall, Harrow and Inverness; what route for the Irish birds can be guessed at?

Birds marked as adults present further problems, but also provide interesting evidence. Hooded crows, captured on migration in spring at Rossitten and then released, have been recovered in autumn actually in the same place and in other localities in Germany, and one marked in October was taken two years later, in spring, in Finland. The sum of these records of crows proves one thing conclusively--the fallacy of G?tke's due east to west and west to east flight, and supports a coastwise migration for this species.

Adult teal, captured in decoys, ringed and released in South Denmark in September and October, were taken in November and December in Hampshire, Suffolk and the Moray Firth, whilst others from the same place were recorded from other parts of England and Ireland, from western France, Holland, the south of Spain and the north of Italy. Fly-lines, if followed, are divergent and complicated. Four young herons were marked in one nest in Denmark; one was recorded in Holstein in June, and another in Mecklenburg in July; the third was killed near Salisbury in Wiltshire in October, and in the following February the last was obtained in the north-west of France. Two from another nest were recovered in Denmark, one in July and the other in February, twelve months after birth. Another heron reached Andalusia by August. In each case where there was indication of a direction it was south-westerly. Many more records might be mentioned, but these are sufficient to show the value of the method and the present insufficiency of results.

Many of these records show that the speed of the migrating birds, even in spring, is not great. Mr Cooke proves that most species in North America travel slowly through the districts where food is plentiful and during the earlier part of the journey northwards only a few miles are covered per day; they travel with the slowly advancing vernal wave, but, as we shall show in the next chapter, many species actually outstrip it, and travel from warmer to colder climates.

The golden plover nests along the Arctic coasts of North America from Alaska to Hudson Bay. So soon as the young are able to take care of themselves the birds migrate south-east to Labrador, where for some weeks they fatten on the autumn harvest of fruits. A short journey across the Gulf of St Lawrence brings them to Nova Scotia, where they gather before starting on their oversea flight. The eastward trip to the food-supplying districts is support of the idea that a route is originated by passage from food-base to food-base, rather than by any hasty rush from the dangers of approaching winter. The birds start south from Nova Scotia for South America!

During this long oversea journey, which Mr G. H. Mackay thinks, with reason, may be undertaken under favourable conditions at a speed of from 150 to 200 miles an hour by birds with such magnificent power of flight, the plovers may meet with many different winds. The Cape Cod sportsmen look for them if the wind is strong from the north-east; the Barbados gunners expect them when there is squally weather from the south-east, but when westerly breezes are blowing they will pass so far as 400 miles east of the Bermudas. Only when the wind is adverse and strong do the plovers visit the Bermudas or even stop at any of the northern Lesser Antilles, 600 miles from the coast of South America. In favourable weather they neglect any of these "emergency stop-overs" and hasten on. In the Guianas the birds rest and feed, but they soon move on. Across the Brazils their actual route is uncertain, but they have been met with in Amazonia, and are known to winter in Argentina, and, it is suspected, in eastern Patagonia.

The return migration is, so far as it is known, in a steady northerly direction, rather north-west across Bolivia towards Central America. From Yucatan they cross the Gulf to Texas, then slowly travel up the great Mississippi highway and across Canada to their northern breeding grounds. "Its round trip has taken the form of an enormous ellipse with a minor axis of 2000 miles and a major axis stretching 8000 miles from Arctic America to Argentina."

The following is Mr Cooke's suggestion of the origin of this great ellipse. Towards the close of the glacial era, when the ice began to recede, the Florida peninsula was submerged and only a small area in the south-east of the States was free from ice. Plover attempting to follow up the retreating ice were confined to an all-land route from Central America through Mexico to the western part of the Mississippi Valley. As the east gradually became uncovered the route would be extended to the north-east, until the area stretching to the Great Lakes was fit for bird-habitation. As the route lengthened and the power of flight developed, there would be a tendency to shorten the line by cutting off some of the great curve through Mexico and Texas, and a short flight across the Gulf would be gradually lengthened, until the present spring route, then also the autumn route , was attained. As Canada opened out, the routes in spring and autumn diverged; in autumn the fruits of Labrador were an attraction, but the Chinook winds made the country east of the Rockies more suitable for spring migration; the fall route tended eastward , the spring route remained unchanged. When the fall route had worked eastward to the Gulf of St Lawrence , shortening took place in the same way from the great westward curve, culminating in an ocean flight, short at first and later extended, the total distance shortened, until the present route was attained .

It is fairly certain that the original route would be roughly north and south, between Siberia and southern Asia. In time the species spread eastward in winter, to Australia and to islands farther east, whilst the breeding area extended to Alaska. If these extensions took place before any cutting off of corners in the route, Alaska birds would travel 11,000 miles to reach the Low Archipelago, only 5000 miles in a direct air-route . Probably shortening began early among the Pacific islands, from the northern islands to the Asiatic coast, and finally to Japan . From Palmyra the flight to the nearest of the Marshall Islands is 2000 miles; thence a journey, provided with several possible rests, of 3000 miles would bring them to Japan. A thousand-mile drift through strong winds might cause the birds to reach Hawaii, whence they would find a chain of islands which would help them, and render the last flight to Japan no longer than the one they had been accustomed to. Having once reached the Midway Islands the shortening of the route would be carried on again by lengthening the oversea journey northwards until the Aleutian Islands were discovered . The present route, now followed in spring and autumn , would be the natural climax of this long evolution. The two golden plovers, sub-specifically distinct, nest little more than a hundred miles apart; their migrations and winter homes are as different as they could be in any two widely divergent species. It is one of the most striking of the ascertained facts in the distribution and habits of birds.

MIGRATION AND WEATHER

In previous chapters it has been necessary to refer repeatedly to the connection between migration and meteorology; either the relation of periodic movements to the rotation of seasons, or the influence directly or indirectly of weather conditions upon normal and abnormal migration. That there is an overruling relation between the advance of spring and the passage to northern breeding quarters, and the gradual cooling in autumn and the retreat to winter quarters is, of course, evident, but it must not be held, as contended by the early students of migration, that this is the sole factor which regulates migration. The actual relationship between the weather and the movement of birds is far more complicated than one would imagine, and the stimuli of continental or overland travelling differ from those of a cross-sea flight.

In the British Islands most of our larger movements are at their start or their finish, or both , oversea passages, and unless the weather be absolutely favourable, birds do not undertake these voyages. No one has added more to our knowledge of the connection, in what we may term British migration, than Mr Eagle Clarke, but it must not for a moment be imagined that his conclusions and the data from which he arrived at them are purely insular. The British Islands are merely the field of observation, the centre of the field, of the movements of Holarctic birds which travel regularly or occasionally through Britain. Mr Clarke points out repeatedly that in studying the phenomena it is the conditions at the point of departure not at the point of arrival--generally the point of observation--which are important.

The oft-repeated assertion that birds can foretell the nature of approaching weather--that they are living barometers--is not supported by any satisfactory evidence, but it is certain that on many occasions the weather into which they have passed in moving from one zone to another has not only retarded, checked, or exhausted them, but has proved fatally disastrous. During the westward rushes in winter, when exceptionally severe weather has cut off the food-supply of ground-feeding birds, observers who have seen the birds moving in front of the storm have maintained that they had felt its approach and retreated in time. The truth seems to be that the birds start so soon as the supply is cut off but in many cases speedily outstrip the storm. When these exceptional winter migrations take place the birds in the lowlands of Lancashire and Cheshire move westward towards Ireland, and are observed at different points along the North Wales coast. They are sometimes seen travelling in a snow-storm and sometimes in advance of it. In eastern Cheshire I have seen parties of lapwings passing over westward just in advance of snow, which when it reached the East Cheshire fields, started the local lapwings after their relatives from farther east.

During regular migration birds start in favourable weather but frequently meet with unfavourable weather before their arrival at the point aimed at; most of the bird "disasters" at the lighthouses and lightships, and more occasionally inland, can be explained in this way.

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