THE LANDRAIL. 333 



Many a pleasant hour may be passed in early summer, 

 when the moon shines bright, by listening to the un- 

 musical yet to me pleasing cry of the Landrail. The 

 flowers throw off unwonted fragrance, and, save the 

 chatter of the Goatsucker as he preys upon the night 

 moths, the occasional cry of the Owl, or the drowsy 

 hum of a wandering beetle, the Landrail's cries are 

 the only ones that disturb the still air of night. Now 

 the bird is within a few yards of you, and you hear him 

 rustle in the thick cover, and his grating cries startle you 

 by their nearness. The next heard of him is at the 

 distant end of the field ; anon, in the centre ; ever 

 wandering, approaching you and then retreating, his 

 crake-crake, crake-crake, awakening the solitudes of night, 

 and answered by his companions in the neighbouring 

 meadows. By far the greater part of the night he is heard 

 to call, and when the sun is rising over the eastern 

 horizon, making the dewdrops on the grass stems glisten 

 like diamonds, and the lovely summer foliage shine like 

 emeralds of the finest lustre, his notes, too, are heard 

 mingling with the voices of the birds of day. 



The bird's keen sense of hearing, and the rapidity of 

 his retreat from the approach of an intruder, has caused 

 many persons to believe that the bird possesses the power 

 of throwing his voice in various directions. To one 

 ignorant of the true habits of the Landrail, nothing 

 seems more natural. Yet let him wander through the 

 bird's haunts, and note how rapidly they glide through 

 the herbage, and he will at once be able to readily ac- 

 count for the bird's seeming powers of ventriloquism. 



When a high wind is blowing we sometimes have 

 great difficulty in denoting the direction from which 

 their cries proceed ; now sounding high and close at 

 hand, and anon appearing faint and distant, as they are 



