288 The Face of the Wilderness 



a highly elaborate system of cultivation turns to 

 good account the primal wetness of the river valleys, 

 the clear, wild call of the redshank is mingled 

 sometimes in April with the familiar nesting-tumult 

 of the lapwing and the drumming of the scarcer 

 snipe. The snipe still nests in such lowland places, 

 where once it was abundant and in recent years 

 has begun once more to increase. But the red- 

 shank is less tolerant of man's ways than the lapwing, 

 and less resourceful in concealment than the snipe. 

 It seldom gains confidence to settle for the season 

 in the open meadows to which it clings with evident 

 desire, sometimes for many days. Its presence 

 adds a novel and rich attraction to the spring 

 life of the brilliant water-meadows. The white 

 feathers in its wings outspread for flight make it 

 as conspicuous to the eye as its liquid alarm notes 

 to the ear. Even in these early days of the nesting 

 season, it is a restless and a noisy bird, though its 

 changing April calls are as nothing to the din which 

 it raises round the head of the wanderer who strays 

 near its hidden young in its eventual nesting-place 

 a few weeks later. The birds begin to pair when 

 they reach the oozy places where they wish to 

 linger. From day to day the party which at first 

 took flight together may be seen breaking up into 

 couples and settling a little apart upon the meadows. 

 The eye is caught from afar by the whiteness of the 

 cock bird's opened wings as he paces before the 

 hen and lifts them above her in the gestures of 

 redshank courtship. But in most agricultural 

 parts of the country the arrival of such unfamiliar 



