"Not by his bill we know the Woodcock" 83 



and eerie serenade, but it touches a sympathetic chord where 

 it is intended to ; and as we listen to the reply of his mate from 

 the other end of the wood, and note the varied intonations 

 of voice, we feel that Crow is holding commune with Crow, 

 and that though their repertoire may be limited in syllables 

 it is still sufficient for requirements. 



At the edge of the wood a cock Pheasant (Gwyddiar, 

 Ccediar or Celliog-coed\ resplendent in purple and gold, is 

 strutting before his three or four wives, like a Sultan in his 

 seraglio, and the sun seems to find new tints, or reburnish 

 old ones, in his gorgeous plumage ; while a Woodcock 

 rising from the heather at our feet causes my companion 

 to repeat an old proverb, " Neid wrth ei big mae nabod 

 Cyfrylog" ("Not by his bill we know the Woodcock"). 

 Few, if any, of these birds remain here to nest, though the 

 hanging woods, if less trespassed upon by stock, would seem 

 to be admirably adapted to their wants, and this is probably 

 only a lingerer, who has not yet started for his summer 

 quarters. In winter there are generally a few Woodcock 

 about, but not, by all accounts, nearly so many as used to 

 be the case a few years ago. Perhaps, as the recently 

 planted fir woods grow up, the place may become more 

 attractive to them again. 



The same tale of spring is being told on the upland moor, 

 where the Grouse (Grugiar, Cochiad, Cochiar, or Ceilog-y- 

 mynydd] is crowing among the heather, and the Curlew 

 whistles overhead, and on the marsh where the Snipe bleats 

 in the air, and frogs are croaking in the pools below. The 

 influence of the south wind has penetrated everywhere 

 the voice of the turtle is heard in the land, and Nature 

 is bidding all her children rejoice in the mere pleasure of 

 being alive. 



