HUDSONIAN CURLEW. 121 



waders, and at high water retires into the marshes, and some- 

 times to the dry ridges and pastures, particularly at a later 

 period, in June, where, accompanied by the Long-Billed spe- 

 cies, it feeds much on dewberries, becoming very fat and 

 well flavored. In the northern regions and the fur countries, 

 to which these birds retire to breed, they also collect crowber- 

 ries {E7npetriivi nigruni) for food. In June they take their 

 departure to the North ; collecting together from the marshes 

 in one general flock, they rise to a considerable elevation about 

 an hour before sunset, and forming a long angular phalanx, 

 keep up a constant whistHng on their march, as if conversing 

 with each other, in order to forget or lessen the toil and 

 hazard of their adventurous journey. Their flight is steady, 

 like that of the Woodcock, and in consequence of their 

 sympathy for each other, they readily come within gunshot of 

 those who can imitate their call. While thus beating the air 

 in company, the transient glittering of their speckled wings, as 

 they glide along in ease and elegance, presents an interesting 

 spectacle no less beautiful than amusing. Arriving, at length, 

 in their natal regions in the wilds of the North, they soon obey 

 the instinct of their species, and making a nest on the ground, 

 lay about four eggs, which, according to Mr. Hutchins, are of a 

 light bluish-gray color, marked with black (or dark-brown) 

 spots. From the middle of August to the beginning of Sep- 

 tember they arrive in the vicinity of Massachusetts Bay and 

 other parts of New England, frequenting the pastures as well 

 as marshes, and fatten upon grasshoppers and berries till the 

 time of their departure, about the close of September ; and 

 they wholly disappear from New Jersey on their way to the 

 South, early in the month of November. Previous to their 

 departure they again assemble in large flocks near the sea- 

 beach, being constantly gregarious in all their journeys. In an 

 island of the Piscataqua, near Plymouth (New Hampshire), a 

 friend informs me that they had, in the autumn, been seen to- 

 gether in a dense flock of many thousands, thickly covering 

 several acres of ground with their numbers. 



When much hunted, they become extremely shy and diffi- 



