This little circumstance of the mallards always flying over him and away
behind, when flushed, presently made Felix speculate on the cause, and
he kept a closer watch. He now saw (what had, indeed, been going on for
some time) that there was a ceaseless stream of waterfowl, mallards,
ducks, coots, moorhens, and lesser grebes coming towards him, swimming
to the westward. As they met him they parted and let him through, or
rose and went over. Next he noticed that the small birds on the islands
were also travelling in the same direction, that is against the wind.
They did not seem in any haste, but flitted from islet to islet, bush to
tree, feeding and gossiping as they went; still the movement was
distinct.
Finches, linnets, blackbirds, thrushes, wrens, and whitethroats, and
many others, all passed him, and he could see the same thing going on to
his right and left. Felix became much interested in this migration, all
the more singular as it was the nesting-time, and hundreds of these
birds must have left their nests with eggs or young behind them. Nothing
that he could think of offered an adequate explanation. He imagined he
saw shoals of fishes going the same way, but the surface of the water
being ruffled, and the canoe sailing rapidly, he could not be certain.
About an hour after he first observed the migration the stream of birds
ceased suddenly.
There were no waterfowls in the water, and no finches in the bushes.
They had evidently all passed. Those in the van of the migratory army
were no doubt scattered and thinly distributed, so that he had been
meeting the flocks a long while before he suspected it. The nearer he
approached their centre the thicker they became, and on getting through
that he found a solitude. The weeds were thicker than ever, so that he
had constantly to edge away from where he supposed the mainland to lie.
But there were no waterfowls and no birds on the islets. Suddenly as he
rounded a large island he saw what for the moment he imagined to be a
line of white surf, but the next instant he recognised a solid mass, as
it were, of swallows and martins flying just over the surface of the
water straight towards him. He had no time to notice how far they
extended before they had gone by him with a rushing sound. Turning to
look back, he saw them continue directly west in the teeth of the wind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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