GOLDEN PLOVER. 183 



hills in March, but long after this, even until May or June, 

 certain lowland fields are visited by passing flocks, replaced by 

 fresh arrivals so soon as one lot leaves for the north. The 

 Golden Plover is partial to particular feeding grounds, seldom 

 visiting other fields in the immediate neighbourhood. By the 

 end of July the first adult birds are returning, still with their 

 under parts mottled with nuptial black ; in September the 

 white-breasted young appear. Most of these flocks pass south, 

 but in October and November the wintering birds join forces with 

 the Lapwings. On the wing the species usually separate, the 

 sharp-winged Plovers out-flying the slowly flapping Lapwings. 



The gregarious Golden Plover whistles frequently when on 

 the wing, but is silent when at rest. The normal call is a 

 clear tlici^ heard at all seasons. Towards evening the flocks 

 indulge in elaborate aerial performances, turning, twisting, and 

 diving in pure enjoyment of air mastery. When all descend, 

 and for a moment their v/hite undervvings flash in the light of 

 the setting sun, the settling flock warbles a low, murmuring, 

 long-shore chorus, and then as the wings are closed the yellow 

 birds melt into their surroundings and vanish. On ploughed 

 land the Golden Plover is almost invisible. On the moors the 

 male trills a love-song as he sweeps round above his mate, and 

 in March I have heard birds on the ground 'suddenly raise a trill 

 of welcome to a party passing over — r/, ioori^ toori, toori — but 

 relapse into silence when the visitors moved on. When changing 

 ground or on migration the V-formation is common ; nocturnal 

 migration is often detected by the calls of the bird, but diurnal 

 movements have often been observed, even at a great altitude. 

 An ornithologist airman told me that he sighted Golden Plover 

 passing far above him when he was flying at a height of 

 6000 feet. On the moors the pairing birds, in addition to 

 the trill, have a nuptial call. Two birds flew swiftly past me 

 over a Welsh moor, each uttering the normal call, but a third, 

 when it overtook them, suddenly slowed down, and witli 



