THE LARGE YELLOWSHANKS. 217 



an hour they reappear like black specks against the gray 

 clouds. In a few seconds I can define them clearly above 

 the tall forest, and can hear the clangor of their peculiar 

 voices; after circling several times over the inundated 

 field they alight about three gun-shots off, each pair of 

 wings pointing straight upward for a few moments, as if to 

 be sure that every feather is in place before folding. For a 

 few moments they glance around to assure themselves that 

 all is safe. Then wading about in a hurried manner, half- 

 way to their bodies in water, with much balancing and 

 vibrating of the body and graceful darting of the head in 

 various directions, they seek their food of aquatic insects, 

 worms, minute mollusks and tiny fishes. Creeping along 

 stealthily behind the fence till I arrive within shot-range, I 

 wing several with one charge. The flock, rising and scatter- 

 ing for a few moments, as if disconcerted, come together 

 and hover over their wounded comrades as thickly as wings 

 can vibrate among each other, calling to them most pit- 

 eously. Strange to say, I pointed my gun at the hovering 

 cloud, and who can tell what might have been the conse- 

 quences had it not failed to go off. This hovering over 

 wounded companions, common to various kinds of water- 

 birds which go in flocks, is a most affecting manifestation 

 of fellow-sympathy; but it is very fatal to them, giving the 

 rarest opportunity to the second barrel of the sportsman. 

 The wounded Yellowshanks push their slender shins 

 through the water with surprising rapidity, make a fair 

 attempt at swimming, and put their heads under the water 

 when closely pursued, but do not understand the art of 

 diving. I learned from the people in the neighborhood that 

 these birds had occupied this feeding ground continuously 

 for several weeks, and that they did not remain long after 

 this. Wintering in the Southern States and in the West 



