Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 3 · column 5 of 6 · from the scan, no model involved
ed to be turned on and off at intervals on TV towers, too many thousands of birds were killed during fall migration. It is the continual brightness of outdoor lights that causes birds to fly to their death at the brightness.
At a tower near Baltimore 400 Ovenbirds were killed in one night. At another, near Chapel Hill, N.C., two friends and I found the area around the base so covered with dead birds that we could not walk without stepping on them. We estimated the kill to be at least 2,500 birds of 40 species including warblers, vireos, sparrows, flycatchers, thrushes and orioles.
Lee Trott and I left the mall and drove to Flint Hill. I brought the dead sparrow with me to check my identification. I was right; the bird was indeed the rare Lincoln’s Sparrow. Peterson referred to the sparrow “... as a skulker, ‘afraid of its own shadow.’ “ Other book described the bird as shy, secretive, mousy and elusive. Is there any wonder that little is known of the Lincoln’s Sparrow?
A dead bird can evoke a memory as effectively as one full of life. I remembered a day in early May 30 years ago when I sat in a blind in a friend’s yard in south Texas, near the town of Sinton, not far from Corpus Christi. No rain had fallen in months. The thermometer registered 103 degrees. All was quiet except for the gentle pattering of water from a sprinkler on the ground that threw spray up against the leaves of a kumquat tree.
I sat hunched over my camera and telephoto lens on a tripod. Waiting was rewarded by a parade of birds, most migrants on their way north. Frantic for water, they were drawn to the sound of the water hitting the leaves and gathering in puddles on the ground. I forgot the heat.
, I photographed an Inca Dove with curious scale-like plumage. A male Hooded
96.2%