SUGGESTIONS AND DIRECTIONS FOB FIELD-WORK. 11 



gate in vast numbets f re more readily reached. There is a knack of shooting loons and grebes 

 on the water ; if they are to be reached at all by the shot it will be by aiming not directly at 

 them but at the water just in front of them. They do not go under just where they float, 

 but kick up behind like a jumping-jack and plunge forward. Rails and several kinds of 

 sparrows are confined to reedy marshes. But why prolong such desultory remarks ? Little 

 can be said to the point without at least a miniature treatise on ornithology ; and I have not 

 yet even alluded to the diversified host of small insectivorous and granivorous birds that fill our 

 woods and fields. The very existence of most of these is unknown to all but the initiated ; yet 

 they include the treasures of the ornithologist. Some are plain and humble, others are among 

 the most beautiful objects in nature ; but most agree in being small, and therefore liable to be 

 overlooked. The sum of my advice about them must be brief. Get over as much ground, 

 both wooded and open, as you can thoroughly examine in a day's tramp, and go out as many 

 days as you can. It is not always necessary, however, to keep on the tramp, especially dur- 

 ing the migration of the restless insectivorous species. One may often shoot for hours without 

 moving more than a few yards, by selecting a favorable locality and allowing the birds to 

 come to him as they pass in varied troops through the low woodlands or swampy thickets. 

 Keep your eyes and ears wide open. Look out for every rustling leaf and swaying twig and 

 bending blade of grass. Hearken to every note, however faint ; when there is no sound, listen 

 for a chirp. Habitually move as noiselessly as possible. Keep your gun always ready. 

 Improve every opportunity of studying a bird you do not wish to destroy ; you may often 

 make observations more valuable than the specimen. Let this be the rule with all birds you 

 recognize. But I fear I must teU you to shoot an unknown bird on sight ; it may give you 

 the slip in a moment and a prize may be lost. One of the most fascinating things about field- 

 work is its delightful uncertainty : you never know what 's in store for you as you start out ; 

 you never can tell what will happen next ; surprises are always in order, and excitement is 

 continually whetted on the chances of the varied chase. 



For myself, the time is past, happily or not, when every bird was an agreeable surprise, 

 for dewdrops do not last all day ; but I have never yet walked in the woods without learning 

 something pleasant that I did not know before. I should consider a bird new to science 

 ample reward for a month's steady work ; one bird new to a locality would repay a week's 

 search ; a day is happily spent that shows me any bird that I never saw alive before. How 

 then can you, with so much before you, keep out of the woods another minute ? 



All Times are good times to go a-shooting; but some are better than others, (a.) Time 

 of year. In all temperate latitudes, spring and fall — periods of migration with most birds — 

 are the most profitable seasons for collecting. Not only are birds then most numerous, both as 

 species and as individuals, and most active, so as to be the more readily found, but they 

 include a far larger proportion of rare and valuable kinds. In every locality in this country 

 the periodical visitants outnumber the permanent residents ; in most regions the number of 

 regular migrants, that simply pass through in the spring and fall, equals or exceeds that of 

 either of the sets of species that come from the south in spring to breed during the summer, 

 or from the north to spend the winter. Far north, of course, on or near the limit of the venial 

 migration, where there are few if any migrants passing through, and where the winter birds 

 are extremely few, nearly all the bird fauna is composed of '' summer visitants ; " far south, 

 in this country, the reverse is somewhat the case, though with many quiilifications. Between 

 these extremes, what is conventionally known as "a season " means tlio period of tlie vernal or 

 autunmal migration. For example, the body of birds present in the District of Columbia (where 

 I collected for several years) in the two months from April 20th to May 20th, and from Septem- 

 ber 10th to October 10th, is undoubtedly greater, as far as individuals are concerned, than the 

 total number found there at all other seasons of the year together. As for species, the number 



