UNDER APRIL CLOUDS 265 



mood, they would be likely to get under way 

 in good season. I waded across the meadow 

 out of the sight of houses, and, having found 

 what seemed to be a promising position, I 

 took it and held it for perhaps an hour. But 

 I heard none of those strange, ghostly, swish- 

 ing noises that I was listening for. Perhaps 

 the birds had not yet arrived. Perhaps this 

 was not a snipe meadow. 



For a time robins and song sparrows made 

 music more or less remote, and an unseen 

 fox sparrow, nearer at hand, amused me 

 with excellent imitations of the brown 

 thrasher's smacking kiss. Then, as it grew 

 really dark, I relinquished the hunt and 

 started homeward. And then the real music 

 began ; for as I approached the highway I 

 heard the whistle of a woodcock, and pre- 

 sently discovered that, for the first time in my 

 life, I was walking through what might be 

 called a veritable woodcock concert. Once 

 three birds were vocal together; one was 

 " bleating " on the right, another on the 

 left, while a third was at the very height of 

 his ecstasy overhead. For a mile or more I 

 walked under a shower of this incomparable, 



