When midsummer arrives a curious 

 change comes over Whitooweek; the slight 

 family ties are broken, and the bird becomes 

 a hermit indeed for the rest of the year. He 

 lives entirely alone, and not even in the 

 migrating season does he join with his fel- 

 lows in any large numbers, as most other 

 birds do; and no one, so far as I know, has 

 ever seen anything that might be appro- 

 priately called a flock of woodcock. The 

 only exception to this rule that I know is 

 when, on rare occasions, you surprise a male 

 woodcock strutting on a log, like a grouse, 

 spreading wings and tail, and hissing and 

 sputtering queerly as he moves up and down. 

 Then, if you creep near, you will flush two 

 or three other birds that are watching 

 beside the log, or in the underbrush close 

 at hand. One hunter told me recently 

 that his setter once pointed a bird on a 

 fallen log, that ceased his strutting as 

 soon as he was discovered and slipped 

 down into the ferns. When the dog 



