The Zoologist— October, 1870, 2337 



composed principally of young birds. There are, however, a few old 

 birds amongst them yet retaining the full summer dress, others are in 

 the transition. Some are washing in the salt water pools, others 

 feeding, many with the bill turned backward and sleeping. With the 

 knot are twelve bartailed godwits, two in perfect summer plumage, 

 others in transition, the remainder apparently birds of the year : they 

 are all feeding, as godwits usually do, as if they had no time to spare. 

 I have before in this journal described their manner of foraging, 

 running rapidly over the flats, and constantly probing the mud with 

 their long bills, as if feeling for their food. It is easy to see when they 

 are successful, as then every motion of the bird displays extreme 

 energy, and the fore part of the head is often thrust underneath in 

 their efforts to reach and hold some concealed creature. In this case 

 their prey was evidently some species of annelid : often when the bill 

 was withdrawn I perceived a large worm dangling from it : this required 

 a little manipulation before it could be swallowed. The bird's head 

 would be thrown back, and the mandibles rapidly worked till the 

 worm became properly adjusted, when down it would go, the neck 

 perceptibly swelling and thickening in the operation, just as we have 

 seen a thrush or blackbird bolt a lobworm. There is then a satisfied 

 smack of the mandibles, and the search recommences. I have often 

 thought when watching godwits that the slightly recurved form of bill 

 is admirably adapted to their mode of searching the ground, that shape 

 being the best suited to penetrate easily the mud, the bird at the same 

 time advancing. The position and curve of the teeth of many of our 

 agricultural implements, especially constructed for penetrating the soil, 

 will best illustrate my meaning. Beyond the knot and godwit, and 

 close to the edge of the advancing tide, are three gray plover j all 

 have the black breast of summer. 



1 had closed my telescope and was leaving the embankment when 

 1 observed nine large birds crossing the flats, flying directly towards 

 me : they were about the size of whimbrel, for which I mistook them, 

 and should have gone away with this impression had it not been for 

 their call-note, uttered as they swept onward with half-closed wings 

 amongst the knot and godwit : their note, totally unlike the " bleat" or 

 *' whelp " of godwit, resembled (for so I wrote it down on the back of 

 an envelope at the time) the word "critty, crilty, critty," rapidly 

 repeated. The glass at once shows they are amongst the rarest of our 

 shore birds, blacktailed godwits. Some are old birds, two yet in the 

 beautiful summer dress, another is changing to the winter plumage, 



