Makgh 1, 1870.] 



HARDWICKE'S SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



59 



ooze their diet consists chiefly of small molhisca 

 of various kinds and the fry of the common 

 mussel. 



At the approach of rain the flocks become very 

 restless, wheeling about to and fro, and constantly 

 shifting' their ground. On this account it is said 

 that the specific name of pluvialis has been applied 

 to the bird, and, in some parts of the country where 

 it is common, persons profess to foretell the weather 

 by watching the movements of the flocks. So long 

 as the weather remains fine and open these birds 

 are uncommonly wary, but a dull rainy day seems 

 to take away all their energy, and they sit huddled 

 together, with their heads drawn in between their 

 shoulders, looking at a little distance more like in- 

 animate clods of earth than birds. As on these 

 occasions they are more easily approached, the 

 most successful shots we ever made at Golden 

 Plover were always obtained on a wet day ; and it 

 would seem, therefore, as if there were good reason 

 for the saying that the bird is called pluvier in 

 Prance, "parce-qu'on le prend mieux en temps 

 pluvieux qu'en nulle autre saison." 



" There is, in shooting plover, a common remark 

 made by sportsmen, that the second is always the 

 most productive barrel. The rapidity with which 

 they vary their position when on the ground seldom 

 admits of a grand combination for a sitting, or 

 rather a running, shot. But when on the wing their 

 mode of flight is most favourable for permitting the 

 shot to tell ; and it is by no means unusual to bring 

 down a number. When disturbed they frequently 

 wheel back directly above the fowler, and offer a 

 tempting mark, if he should have a barrel in reserve ; 

 and even when too high for the shot to take effect 

 I have often thrown away a random fire ; for the 

 plover, on hearing the report, directly make a 

 sweep downwards on the wing, and I have by tliis 

 means brought them within range of the second 

 barrel." * 



Thompson, in referring to this singular habit of 

 the Golden Plover, f gives an amusing anecdote on 

 the subject, as related to him by a friend. 



"In the winter of 1S47 I went to some boggy 

 meadows in the neighbourhood of Belfast, for the 

 purpose of shooting Golden Plover, and took with 

 me a young lad who had never before been on such 

 an expedition. When returning home a flock, 

 consisting of about fifty of these birds, flew over- 

 head beyond reach of the shot ; but as I despaired 

 of getting nearer to them, I fired at the flock, 

 on which they instantly swept down, almost per- 

 pendicularly, within three or four yards of the 

 ground. My companion ran forward in the greatest 

 delight to pick up, as he expected, the entire flock, 

 when to his utter amazement, they all resumed 



* " Wild Sports of the West," p. 292. 

 t "Nat. Hist, of Ireland,"— Birds, ii. p. 



88. 



their former mode of flight, and quickly disappeared 

 in the distance." 



Towards the end of March or beginning of April, 

 the large flocks break up, and smaller parties may 

 be observed moving northwards again towards their 

 breeding haunts. About this time sundry black 

 feathers make their appearance on the throat and 

 breast, giving indications of that remarkable change 

 from winter to summer plumage, when the under- 

 pays, from being pure white, become jet-black. 



We shall not easily forget the first occasion on 

 which we met with the Golden Plover in summer 

 plumage. 



Walking, in the middle of May, over a wild moor 

 in Northumberland, where the eye rested on no- 

 thing but heather and sky, we were watching the 

 circling flight of a curlew, and wondering whether 

 we could find the nest. Suddenly we were almost 

 startled by a soft, clear whistle, which sounded so 

 close at hand that we turned round, expecting to 

 find a follower who might have some message to 

 deliver. Nothing was to be seen, and while we 

 gazed and wondered, again it sounded clear and 

 plaintive, bringing to mind those lines of Walter 

 Scott, in the " Lady of the Lake,"— 



" And in the Plover's shrilly strain, 

 The signal whistle 's heard again." 



There was something very ventriloquial in the 

 sound, and it was a long time before we were 

 able to determine the exact direction whence it 

 proceeded. 



At length having decided this, and concluding 

 that it must be a Golden Plover, although the note, 

 differed from the well-known call which we had 

 so often heard in winter, we went down on hands 

 and knees and crawled stealthily towards the spot 

 where we supposed the bird to be, stopping now 

 and then to listen for the guiding call. 



So fully convinced were we that the bird was at 

 least a hundred yards ahead, that it was with con- 

 siderable surprise we came upon it before we had 

 accomplished half that distance. 



We can conceive few emotions more pleasurable 

 than that which sways the mind of a naturalist 

 when looking upon a species which is new to him ; 

 and we shall never forget the delight which we 

 experienced on that occasion, when, peering through 

 the heather, we saw for the first time, within ten 

 yards of us, a black-breasted Golden Plover. Al- 

 though so many years ago, we can still recall every 

 attitude of the bird as we first saw it. The uplifted 

 wing and short quick run, as if for a meditated 

 fiight, and then the sudden repose and motionless 

 attitude, on finding that no danger threatened. We 

 watched it till our eyes swam, when another came 

 in view, announcing its presence by a soft whistle 

 exactly similar to that we had heard before. 



Our curiosity satisfied, we rose to our feet and 



