12 A Book of the Snipe. 



him over from the tundras of Siberia, when 

 his larder is frozen there, in time for a late 

 dinner amid the warmth and worms of the 

 temperate zone. He is the most vagrant, 

 most irresponsible of feathered creatures, and 

 only the mighty Master, the weather, has 

 anything to say to his goings on, and those 

 of his big cousins and travelling companions, 

 the wild geese and the widgeon. 



Then how beautiful he is. From the top 

 of his gamey, tapered head to the soles of 

 his delicate feet he is a perfect little gentle- 

 man to look at, thoroughbred in every line 

 of him. On the wing he only condescends 

 to show you the flash of his white waistcoat, 

 and perhaps a fleeting glance at his slim bill 

 silhouetted against the sky. But take him in 

 your hand if you are lucky or clever enough 

 to hit him. His back and wings are an 

 artistic triumph of warm browns and cool 

 creams, which are in absolute harmony with 

 the snowy white of his breast and the black 

 bars which relieve his flanks. If you are a 

 fisherman, you will be able to detect the 



