A New World 



long watching and listening did we at last 

 discover it in the wings of the plump brown 

 bird. 



The love-song of the common jack snipe 

 seemed not a whit less mysterious than par- 

 tridge drumming. It was usually heard on 

 cloudy evenings, a strange, unearthly, winnow- 

 ing, spiritlike sound, yet easily heard at a dis- 

 tance of a third of a mile. Our sharp eyes soon 

 detected the bird while making it, as it circled 

 high in the air over the meadow with wonder- 

 fully strong and rapid wing-beats, suddenly 

 descending and rising, again and again, in 

 deep, wide loops ; the tones being very low and 

 smooth at the beginning of the descent, rapidly 

 increasing to a curious little whirling storm- 

 roar at the bottom, and gradually fading lower 

 and lower until the top was reached. It was 

 long, however, before we identified this mysteri- 

 ous wing-singer as the little brown jack snipe 

 that we knew so well and had so often watched 

 as he silently probed the mud around the edges 

 of our meadow stream and spring-holes, and 



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