158 SCOLOPACID^:. 



tory visitors, it arrives with us in the beginning of May, and 

 takes its departure in September. 



On the arrival of this elegant visitant, it immediately be- 

 takes itself to the neighbourhood of small rivers, mountain 

 streams, and the sandy margins of lakes. In our own vici- 

 nity we find them distributed sparingly along the Dodder, 

 becoming more frequent as we approach its source, and dis- 

 persed in a similar manner along the retired rivulets of the 

 .Dublin and Wicklow mountains. 



In such localities it continues in safety ; its haunts rarely 

 intruded on except by the occasional footsteps of the angler, 

 or the shrill halloo of some rustic goatherd. To both its 

 presence is at once pleasing and amusing ; indeed so much so 

 that we have at times surprised the mountaineer, heedless of 

 any charge, reclining on the sunny turf, his eyes radiant with 

 pleasure, and his feet beating in unison with the changing 

 attitudes of the sandpiper. So harmless are its habits, that 

 all who have the pleasure of its acquaintance regard it as an 

 agreeable favourite. Few anglers who, in pursuit of their 

 favourite pastime, ascend towards the source of our picturesque 

 trout streams, do not recognise their cheerful companion with 

 the same pleasurable sensations with which we regard the re- 

 turn of the cuckoo and the swallow. 



Its food consists of small insects, animalculae, and molluscse, 

 abundance of which is furnished in such localities. When 

 in pursuit of its prey it displays an endless and elegant va- 

 riety of attitudes, enlivened with its peculiar piping whistle 



" Along the river's rocky marge 

 The sand-lark sings a joyous song." 



Unlike the sea-larks of the coast, which are generally 

 congregated in large flocks, this species only occurs in 

 pairs. Even on their arrival we have never observed more 

 than six together. The observation of the habits of the sand- 

 piper has always afforded us pleasure. At times seated by 

 the river's margin in some retired glen, quiet and secluded, 

 where 



" The only visitant's a straggling sheep, 

 The stonechat or the glancing sandpiper" 



break in upon the solitude, a pair shoot rapidly past us, 

 alighting on the river's edge ; stiffening their wings above the 

 back, they run with astonishing celerity along the gravel, and, 

 flitting to some exposed stone in the river, they utter their 

 prolonged amatory note. Now startling the water-ousels from 



