THE SAND-PLOVERS. j6l 



Away they fly, a little black band, just skimming the waves, with 

 the Sand-Plover well ahead, and guiding them to a safer rest- 

 ing-place a little farther down the coast. I have known this 

 occur so often that the " Wide-a-wake " was never a great 

 favourite with us in the old shooting days of Pagham Har- 

 bour. 



The habits of the species at the nesting season have 

 been well described by "The Son of the Marshes": "No 

 bird that I am acquainted with shows more anxiety for its 

 eggs and young than the bird under notice. It is this ex- 

 treme anxiety that betrays their presence ; you hear a plaintive 

 whistle, and the bird flits in front of you, settles down, and 

 pipes. There it is, there it is, you can see it as plainly as if 

 you had it in your hand. It runs a yard or two away, then 

 turns and comes towards you as if it meant to run close up to 

 your feet ; stops short, looks at you intently, with its full dark 

 eyes, and pipes softly, as if to say, 'Don't come any nearer.' 

 But we do, for we feel inclined to see some perfect acting on 

 this proficient little creature's part. 



" There it goes, one leg broken and a wing tipped ; now both 

 wings are crippled, and it tries to raise its useless wings, but all 

 to no purpose ; it drops on its breast, throws its head, with the 

 eyes half closed, as much as to say ' I'm done for.' Nothing 

 of the kind ; it scuffles out of sight somehow, and you pass on. 

 Presently you see a wounded bird trying to keep from falling ; 

 it is no use, for the poor creature drops, spreads out 'its tail 

 and wings, as some species do at the last gasp, and lies there, 

 to all appearance dead. It is nothing but sheer humbug, the 

 whole of it ; on a near approach the bird shoots up and away, 

 piping in the most cheerful and contented manner : these 

 consummate arts have only been gone through to lure you 

 away from the vicinity of its eggs or young. You might, in 

 fact, be standing over a nestling and not see it unless the toe 

 of your boot caused the tiny creature to move from where it 

 had squatted; when the young are alarmed they scatter out." 



Nest. None, as a rule, being merely a hollow scooped in 

 the sand, though sometimes the bird takes advantage of a 

 natural depression. Colonel Feilden has recorded an instance 

 in which the nest was lined with the green fleshy leaves and 

 stems of Atriplex littoralis. 



