Birds by Land and Sea 



July day. I was skirting a grass field, in which the 

 second crop was making poor headway, owing to the 

 dryness of the month, and suddenly noticed a corn- 

 crake twenty yards in front of me, drinking from a 

 rain puddle at the side of the path. I stood abso- 

 lutely still, and for the space of a minute or so the 

 corncrake, with head raised, watched me without a 

 movement. As I had the glass, the bird was, so to 

 say, in my hand for all purposes of observation. 

 The result of the corncrake's inspection of the mo- 

 tionless column on the path seemed to be that, if it 

 was not a man, it was a remarkably good imitation of 

 one ; so, lowering its head, it slid into a tuft of grass 

 at the edge of the field. I could easily cover the 

 whole tract with my eye, and seeing no bird emerge, 

 concluded that it was still skulking in the tuft. I 

 examined the latter without finding it, and to this 

 day continue to marvel at the adroitness of that 

 corncrake in getting away unobserved. 



With the introduction of the modern mowing- 

 machine, however, the bird's habit of running hither 

 and thither without leaving cover no longer serves 

 as in the days of the scythe. A Cheshire farmer 

 told me of an amusing experience he had, when last 

 getting in the hay. He knew that there were corn- 

 crakes in the field, and when he set to work in the 

 early morning to drive round and round at each 

 turn stripping the outer edge from the great central 

 square the birds followed their usual tactics in the 

 ample cover still left at their disposal. But as the 



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