Snipe, Sandpipers, etc. 



well protected in the spring, at least (as every bird should be), un- 

 der the wing of the law; neither will it come to a decoy easily, 

 nor permit itself to be whistled down to the stools, unlike the 

 majority of its too confiding kin. But however distrustful of 

 man, it is not unsocial, since we often see it in companies of other 

 beach birds that evidently depend upon its office as sentinel. Morn- 

 ing, noon, and night its voice is loudly in evidence, until one tires 

 of hearing its persistent whistle. Within a stone's throw of a 

 summer cottage on the New Jersey coast, a decidedly wide-awake 

 call came from the marsh every hour between sunset and sunrise. 



But love, the magician, works wonders with this noisy, dis- 

 trustful bird, and a radical if temporary change comes over it 

 during the nesting season. "They cease their cries," says Dr. 

 Coues, "grow less uneasy, become gentle, if still suspicious, and 

 may generally be seen stalking quietly about the nest. When 

 willets are found in that humor — absent minded, as it were, ab- 

 sorbed in reflection upon their engrossing duties, and unlikely to 

 observe anything not in front of their bill — it is pretty good evi- 

 dence that they have a nest hard by. During incubation, the bird 

 that is 'off duty ' (both birds are said to take turns at this) almost 

 always indulges in reveries, doubtless rose tinted . . . and 

 the inquiring ornithologist could desire no better opportunity to 

 observe every motion and attitude." 



A nest in the Jersey marsh already mentioned was nothing 

 more than a depression in a dry spot of ground, containing four 

 pale olive brown eggs spotted with a darker shade and rich pur- 

 plish brown. This nest, among the thick sedges, was reached by 

 a sort of tunnel among the grasses, entered some little distance 

 away by the sitting bird. Neither parent had forgotten how to 

 get scared or to make a noise the day that nest was visited; nor 

 did other birds in the marsh fail to loudly protest their sympathy, 

 not to say alarm, as they circled overhead in a state of painful ex- 

 citement. Reassured that no harm had been done by a mere 

 glance at the speckled treasures, the willets wheeled about lower 

 and lower over the sedges, flashing the white wing mirrors in the 

 sunlight before they alighted, and with wings held high above the 

 back until they met, at last set foot to earth again, bowing their 

 heads like reverent archangels as they struck this exquisite posture. 

 Musical, liquid, tender notes, evidently a love song, float from 

 the throat of the sentinel lover, walking up and down in absent- 



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