THE AMERICAN CRANES. 1 43 



out in front and see Wilson's snipe running 

 about a few feet from me, probing the soft mud 

 with his long bill, and in the water see the re- 

 flection of long strings of the glossy ibis as they 

 sailed along above. And how much harder to 

 lie there and hear the searching Grrrrrrrrrrroooo 

 come long drawn and rolling from every quarter, 

 increasing by the moment, and soon hear the 

 light stroke of fanlike wings while the long 

 raucous windpipes, but a few feet above, rolled 

 their wild notes like the rattle of the thunder- 

 bolt ! 



But I let them all go unshot at, for one shot 

 along the line of flight of the whooping-crane is 

 quite certain to settle the prospects for that 

 morning ; and I lay there listening to the whiz of 

 teal and the cackle of brant until there came a 

 trumpet-note so wildly sweet that I almost held 

 my breath. It had been sounding all the time I 

 had been here, but with the illusive penetration 

 that distance gives and which I had long learned 

 to estimate. But now with ringing clearness it 

 came — a sound unlike any other on earth, and 

 one that few sportsmen or naturalists have ever 

 heard often enough even to describe. 



