112 Birds of Lakeside and Prairie 



The woods ended and the marsh began. There was a 

 pool at the edge of the timber, and about it were running 

 two spotted sandpipers. When I was a boy these tiny 

 waterside dwellers were called "tip-ups." The name fits 

 them to a nicety, for their bodies are in constant motion, and 

 look like diminutive teeter-boards; first the head is in the air, 

 then down it goes, and the apology for a tail bobs up. This 

 operation is repeated incessantly. Some solitary sandpipers 

 were flying about the pool and the adjacent marsh. Finally, 

 to our surprise, one of them lit on a fence post within twenty 

 feet of us, and there stood fearlessly while we stared at it 

 through our glasses. It is strange how quickly the game 

 birds learn that the shooting season is over. Two weeks 

 before the solitary would have given us a wide berth, even 

 though we had nothing more harmful than field-glasses with 

 which to bring it down. I wanted to put the bird to flight 

 so that we could see its white markings to better advantage, 

 and I picked up a stick to toss toward it. The missile got 

 no farther than my hand, however, because my gentler- 

 minded companions begged me not to abuse, even to that 

 extent, the bird's confidence. 



We flushed one after another three jacksnipe which were 

 feeding in the marsh at the very edge of the road. They rose 

 with the squawk that is translated into "scaipe" by most of 

 the books. A few jacksnipe nest in these Indiana marshes, 

 and thousands of them would make their homes here if the 

 vicious practice of spring shooting could be stopped. The 

 birds are harried daily during the mating time. They know 

 no rest from dog or gun until they get into the far North. 

 There is precious little sport in spring jacksnipe shooting. If 



