BIRDS OF THE MOOR. 227 



a rapid whistling note, he rises in a spiral course to a 

 great height in the air. At the summit of his ascent, he 

 hovers about with irregular motions, chirping a medley of 

 broken notes, like imperfect warbling. This continues 

 about ten or fifteen seconds, when it ceases and he de- 

 scends rapidly to the ground. We seldom hear him in 

 his descent, but receive the first intimation of it by 

 the repetition of his iiccy, like the sound produced by 

 those minute wooden trumpets sold at the German toy- 

 shops. 



No person could watch this playful flight of the Wood- 

 cock without interest ; and it is remarkable that a bird 

 with short wings and difficult flight should be capable of 

 mounting to so great an altitude. It affords me a vivid con- 

 ception of the pleasure with which I should witness the 

 soaring and singing of the Skylark, known to us only by 

 description. I have but to imagine the chirruping of the 

 Woodcock to be a melodious series of notes to feel that I 

 am listening to the bird which has been so familiarized to 

 us by English poetry, that in our early days we often 

 watch for his greeting on a summer sunrise. It is with 

 sadness we first learn that the Skylark is not an inhab- 

 itant of the Xew World ; and our mornings and evenings 

 seem divested of a great part of their charm by their 

 want of this lyric accompaniment. 



There are other sounds connected with the flight of the 

 Woodcock that increase his importance as an actor in 

 the great melodrama of Nature. When we stroll away at 

 dusk from the noise of the town, to a spot where the still- 

 ness permits us to hear distinctly all those faint sounds 

 which are turned by the silence of night into music, we 

 may hear at frequent intervals the hum produced by the 

 irregular flight of the Woodcock as he passes over short 

 distances near the wood. It is like the sound of the wings 

 of Doves, or like that produced by the rapid whisking of a 



