me the borings, telling me on the way of the 

 woodcock's habits as he had seen them in 

 the fall hunting. The borings we found in 

 plenty wherever the earth was soft, numer- 

 ous holes, as if made with a pencil, where 

 the woodcock had probed the earth with 

 her long bill. She was hunting for earth- 

 worms, Natty told me, a queer mistake of 

 his, and of all the bird books as well, for 

 in the primitive alder woods and swamps 

 where the borings are so often seen, there 

 are no earthworms, but only slugs and soft 

 beetles and delicate white grubs. Wood- 

 cock hunt by scent and feeling, and also by 

 listening for the slight sounds made by the 

 worms underground, he told me, 

 and that is 



