1 10 IN SPRING. 



dant sympathy for those who, walking through 

 moonlit woods, whistle to keep their courage up. 

 Such, in a measure, were my own feelings 

 until I reached a glade where the light fell soft- 

 ly upon the wind-swept sod. There the imma- 

 terial world vanished, and I was no longer the 

 companion of uncanny sprites. Resting from a 

 long journey, yet not disposed to sleep, a pair 

 of woodcocks stalked leisurely across my path 

 without deigning to notice my approach. I drew 

 back a pace or two, and watched them pass by. 

 They did not leave the glade, but seemed to be 

 scanning every foot of it, perhaps discussing its 

 merits as a summer resort. Then first one and 

 then the other took a short upward and circuit- 

 ous flight, and in a few seconds returned. This 

 was frequently done. Was it to hail passing 

 migrants ? I ask this seriously, for I have 

 known several pairs to frequent a cluster of rho- 

 dodendrons all through the month of March, and 

 yet none nested until late in April : per contra, I 

 have found their eggs in February. The move- 

 ments of this pair, as I saw them, were myste- 

 rious, but I could do nothing in so uncertain a 

 light toward unraveling the mystery, and con- 

 tented myself with attracting their attention. I 

 whistled shrilly but a single note, and as if shot 

 the birds came to a halt. I whistled again, and 

 they drew nearer to me, as I thought ; but if so, 



