500 THE WILSON SNIPE. 
2 
springs up quickly against the wind, shouts “Jack, Jack,” twice, pursues a 
bewildering zigzag until out of range, and then flies straight to some other 
feeding ground, or circles about and enters the old one from another quarter. 
This zigzag flight, which is the joy of the old gunners and the despair of 
the young, is really a wonderful exhibition of the self-protecting instinct. 
For we cannot fairly accuse the Snipe of not knowing his own mind, since 
when once out of harm’s way, his flight is direct and rapid, and he drops 
into a bog like a shot. ‘The trick must have been deliberately acquired. 
The cries of the first bird startled are sometimes a signal for all the others 
ill a given swamp to rise and dodge about in the upper air, taking distant 
counsel whether to return or fly to pastures new. In either case, the sport 
is off for that day, for the aerial caucus is a sign that the birds won't stand 
much fooling. 
Of course the degree of timidity which the birds exhibit in any locality 
is simply a matter of the amount of persecution to which they have been 
recently subjected. Sometimes the entrance of a gunner into a field is the 
signal for the Snipe to flee the country. On the other hand, I once ap- 
proached in midwinter a bird which I knew to be in perfect condition, and 
which stood quizzically in full survey until I got within five feet of it, 
whereupon it calmly swam across a little brook rather than bother to fly 
trom the harmless bird-man. 
Besides its semi-nocturnal habits and fashion of probing the mud for 
food, the Wilson Snipe closely resembles the Woodcock in the manner of its 
love-making. Indeed, never having had opportunity of simultaneous com- 
parison, | cannot now distinguish in memory the characteristic hooting notes 
of the Snipe from those of the Woodcock. I have seen the former, not only 
at the favorite hours of dawn and sunset, but at high noon as well, hovering 
over a pasture swamp patch, or cutting mysterious figures in high air, and 
uttering ever and anon the most lugubrious, love-lorn strains, like unfocused 
flute-notes. This passion song of the Jack-snipe has been called drumming, 
but the term is inappropriate. When nesting season is on the male betrays 
his anxiety by resorting frequently to commanding positions on fence-posts 
and stumps. Sometimes, when greatly excited, the bird will utter a harsh, 
guttural cackling or bleating note. On such occasions, when the bird is 
settled on a post regarding you with sober, down-turned beak and watchful 
eve, the effect is irresistibly comical. And you might as well laugh, for 
you can’t find the nest—not once in a dozen times. 
