THE CURLEW 181 



with wiags rapidly beating the air. On reaching a certain 

 elevation he soars — gUdes rather — 3arthward, in a slanting 

 direction, and it is now that his song is uttered. Com- 

 mencing usually in a couple of long-drawn whistles, uttered 

 in a very low key, the song quickens, the notes are sharper 

 and clearer, and have at the middle of the " performance " 

 a curious distinctive " break," difficult to put into words. 

 It is at this point that the song is carried far across the 

 moorland country — it can, it is stated, be heard three 

 miles away, if everything be favourable — but almost at 

 once the key is lowered, the calls become more subdued, 

 more drawn out, until they end, as they commenced, 

 in low, melancholy cries. 



Sometimes one sees a Curlew making his way across 

 a moor and constantly fluttering up into the air. But 

 one imagines that there is something at fault, for time 

 after time he utters only the first note of his song, and then 

 almost at once mounts again into the heavens. Can it be 

 that he does not succeed in reaching the correct altitude 

 from which all self-respecting Curlew commence their 

 appeals to their adored ones ? But perhaps the songster 

 is not producing that bottom note satisfactorily, and thus 

 is doing his best to perfect it. It is, I believe, only the 

 male birds that practise these distinctive risings and dips 

 in the air, but I can assert from personal experience the 

 hen also makes use of the trilling, tuneful cries, which 

 most ornithologists associate only with the cock bird 

 during the season of nesting. 



The Curlews are on the moorlands for close on two 

 months before the first eggs are laid. During April 

 of the present year (1914) quite remarkable weather 

 conditions were experienced in the country of the hills. 

 Day after day cloudless skies and mild breezes made 

 it hard to realise that summer had not arrived, and so 

 I was interested to see whether such exceptional tern- 



