THE WILSON SNIPE. 



springs up quickl) against the wind, shouts "Jack, Jack," twice, pursues a 

 bewildering zigzag until out of range, and then flies straight to some other 

 feeding ground, or circles about and enters the old one from another quarter. 

 This zigzag flight, which is the joy of the old gunners and the despair of 

 the young, is really a wonderful exhibition of the self-protecting instinct. 

 For we cannot fairly accuse the Snipe of not knowing his own mind, since 

 when mice out of harm's way, his flight is direct and rapid, and he drops 

 into a bog like a shot. The trick must have been deliberately acquired. 

 The cries of the first bird startled are sometimes a signal for all the others 

 in a given swamp to rise and dodge about in the upper air, taking distant 

 counsel whether to return or fly to pastures new. In either case, the sport 

 is off for that day, for the aerial caucus is a sign that the birds won't stand 

 much fooling. 



Of course the degree of timidity which the birds exhibit in any locality 

 is simply a matter of the amount of persecution to which they have been 

 recently subjected. Sometimes the entrance of a gunner into a field is the 

 signal for the Snipe to flee the country. On the other hand, I once ap- 

 proached in midwinter a bird which I knew to be in perfect condition, and 

 which stood quizzically in full survey until I got within five feet of it, 

 whereupon it calmly swam across a little brook rather than bother to fly 

 from the harmless bird-man. 



Besides its semi-nocturnal habits and fashion of probing the mud for 

 food, the Wilson Snipe closely resembles the Woodcock in the manner of its 

 love-making. Indeed, never having had opportunity of simultaneous com- 

 parison, I cannot now distinguish in memory the characteristic hooting notes 

 of the Snipe from those of the Woodcock. I have seen the former, not only 

 at the favorite hours of dawn and sunset, but at high noon as well, hovering 

 over a pasture swamp patch, or cutting mysterious figures in high air, and 

 uttering ever and anon the most lugubrious, love-lorn strains, like unfocused 

 ilute-notes. This passion song of the Jack-snipe has been called drumming, 

 hut the term is inappropriate. When nesting season is on the male betrays 

 his anxiety by resorting frequently to commanding positions on fence-posts 

 and stumps. Sometimes, when greatly excited, the bird will utter a harsh, 

 guttural cackling or bleating note. On such occasions, when the bird is 

 settled on a post regarding you with sober, down-turned beak and watchful 

 eye, the effect is irresistibly comical. And you might as well laugh, for 

 you can't find the nest — not once in a dozen times. 



