NORTHWARD WITH THE SHORE-BIRDS 231 
of most other shore-birds, — for the snipe is classed among 
shore-birds, or Limicolae. The date was the eighteenth of 
June. 
After duly photographing the nest and eggs, both snipes 
meanwhile flying excitedly about overhead, I prepared the 
camera for a possible picture of the mother snij^e upon the 
nest at close range. When all was ready, the camera being 
set upon the ground only a yard from the nest, I laid the 
line of connecting thread clear across the bayou, where I hid 
under some low s])ruces to watch. One snipe only seemed to 
I)e flying about, and there was no way of telling whether the 
other had returned to the nest but to creep up and look. 
Before doing this, however, I rejoined the party who were 
eating lunch up on a sand-dune. After nearly an hour’s 
absence, I crept silently to my spool and pulled at a venture, 
not knowing whether or not the bird was on the nest. As 
the sky was somewhat overcast, I had set the shutter for one 
second, trusting that the snipe might be dozing on the nest 
and would not move. Then I silently tiptoed over to where I 
could learn my fate. There was the blessed snipe at her vigil, 
facing the camera, head low and bill resting on the ground. 
She made no move to start till I was within ten feet of her, 
when she fluttered reluctantly away and dropped down on 
the bank close at hand, beside a spruce thicket, where she 
lay flapping her wings much as does a nighthawk under 
similar circumstances, reiterating the familiar “ scaip ” note, 
that every gunner knows. Then for half a minute she lay 
still, as though dead, but soon stood up, ran a little way, and 
flew quickly off. So tame was she that she returned to the 
nest in my verv presence, before I was ready for the next 
shot. Driving her off, I set the shutter again and took my 
station under a spruce about twenty feet away. In just four 
minutes I saw her alight near by, and in another minute she 
