and sometimes even a complete somersault. But the next instant 
he is up and away over the ground with musical wing- 
beats, tilting and swaying from side to side with wonderful 
buoyancy. 
Throughout, this delightful performance is accompanied by 
a wild and joyous song, which seems to be attuned to the somewhat 
bleak surroundings. It thrills one even to remember it in later 
days: and it defies one to express it in human fashion. It has 
been as nearly rendered as any version I have ever seen—and I 
have seen many—by Mr. Brock. It is not a whistle, nor is it 
like any sound that can be faithfully rendered by the human 
voice, yet it seems to say “ whey-willuchooee-willuch-willuch- 
cooee.”” It suffers a break, remarks Mr. Farren, commenting on 
this theme, during the flutter of the wings at the end of the fall, 
but is picked up at once with a triumphant “ coo-whee, coo-ee,” 
as the bird dashes off at the end of the somersault. 
The lapwing is very intolerant of any trespass on his breed- 
ing territory on the part of his neighbours. As soon as the 
intruder is sighted, the owner of the territory charges. And the 
two then mount up into the air, often to a great height, each striv- 
ing to get above the other for a downward swoop. As the one 
“stoops ” at the other, the lower bird dodges, and so rapidly are 
the wings moved that they are often brought smartly together 
over the back, producing a clapping noise. 
59 
