16 SHARP EYES. 



then settled down, perfectly motionless and stupid* 

 with eyes closed. The parent bird, on these occasions, 

 made frantic efforts to decoy me away from her 

 young. She would fly a few paces and fall upon her 

 breast, and a spasm, like that of death, would run 

 through her tremulous outstretched wings and pros- 

 trate body. She kept a sharp eye out the meanwhile 

 to see if the ruse took, and if it did not, she was 

 quickly cured, and moving about to some other point, 

 tried to draw my attention as before. When followed 

 she always alighted upon the ground, dropping down 

 in a sudden peculiar way. The second or third day 

 both old and young had disappeared. 



The whippoorwill walks as awkwardly as a swal- 

 low, which is as awkward as a man in a bag, and yet 

 she manages to lead her young about the woods. The 

 latter, I think, move by leaps and sudden spurts, their 

 protective coloring shielding them most effectively. 

 Wilson once came upon the mother-bird and her 

 brood in the woods, and, though they were at his very 

 feet, was so baffled by the concealment of the young 

 that he was about to give up the search, much disap- 

 pointed, when he perceived something " like a slight 

 moldiness among the withered leaves, and, on stoop- 

 ing down, discovered it to be a young whippoorwill, 

 seemingly asleep.'* Wilson's description of the young 

 is very accurate, as its downy covering does look pre- 

 cisely like a " slight moldiness." Returning a few 

 moments afterward to the spot to get a pencil he had 

 forgotten, he could find neither old nor young. 



It takes an eye to see a partridge in the woods, 

 motionless upon the leaves ; this sense needs to be 

 as sharp as that of smell in hounds and pointers ; and 

 yet I know an unkempt youth that seldom fails to 



