visible beyond a distance of five miles, we determined the greatest altitude at which birds migrate to be three miles above the earth's surface. Many, however, fly at a lower level; indeed, it is not improbable that certain species may, with more or less regularity, travel at a given altitude, and that this altitude may vary among birds of different families. With little doubt thrushes and warblers travel at a much lower level than do ducks and geese, a circumstance which may account for the great abundance of the first two named and the comparative absence of the last in the vicinity of lighthouses.
Such, in brief, are the sources and methods to which we owe our knowledge of the nocturnal flight of birds. It will be evident to the most casual reader how incomplete are our data. The time is still far distant when we can hope to conclusively account for the many perplexing phenomena of migration, but we may be pardoned if, in conclusion, we briefly review the bearing of our present information.
We need not discuss here the origin of migration or the causes which now induce birds to undertake a long and perilous journey twice each year. Bat the power and influences which guide a bird, in the darkness of the night, through space, and render a definite migration possible, are subjects kindred to our inquiry and worthy our attention.
Until we possess some exact knowledge of the distance to which birds can see we can not estimate the aid their vision is to them while migrating. We know, however, that the avian eye is far more powerful than ours, and it is fair to assume that to some extent their journeys are directed by a sight which enables them to follow mountain chains, river valleys, and coast lines, and to distinguish distant headlands or islands. At an altitude of two miles an object would be visible ninety miles and the horizon be separated by twice this distance. At no time, therefore, in their journey from North to South America are birds necessarily out of sight of land. But that they do venture beyond a point where land is visible is shown by the regular appearance of migrants in the Bermudas, six hundred miles from our coast, while Jamaica, four hundred miles north of the nearest point of South America, is a point of departure for many south-bound migrants. Here, with neither islet, shoal, nor reef to mark the way, it is evident that sight alone would prove an insufficient guide, and they must rely on some other sense. Primarily, this is the inherited habit which prompts birds to fly southward in the fall and to return in the spring. But, given the impulse of direction, there is little doubt that one of the best guides to night-flying birds is the sense of hearing. Birds' ears are exceedingly acute. They readily detect sounds which to us are inaudible. Almost invariably
