142 FOKEST CREATURES. 



betimes, the bird is not far, and he has begun his love- 

 call ; and that is all you can desire. He repeats it 

 often, too, and quicker, and more quickly, and you 

 have a foreboding of success ; for such accelerated utter- 

 ance betokens that the sweet frenzy possesses him, 

 and that love and its madness are blinding him, even as 

 they blind men. The guttural '* tut, tut," is followed by 

 another, not unlike the smack with the tongue one 

 curious in wine will give after having tasted a sort 

 which he finds superlatively excellent. This is repeated 

 a few times, and then comes a changing, now louder 

 now lower sound, resembling along drawn-out "whish," 

 or that gliding sound which a scythe makes in sweeping 

 at morning through the heavy dewy grass. This is the 

 close of the call ; and while he utters it he spreads out 

 his tail like a fan, the wings, quivering with excite- 

 ment, are extended downward, and with head out- 

 stretched, and all the feathers round the neck standing 

 on end like a ruff, he pirouettes on his perch, or goes 

 sideways to and fro the whole length of the branch. 

 It is during this finale that the bird may be approached, 

 for while the fit is on him, while the ecstacy lasts, he 

 sees and hears nothing. 



This is the moment therefore to be taken advantage 

 of. You must listen to his call, and the moment the 

 second note, the smack of the tongue, is over and the 

 " whish " has begun, you may quickly take three strides 



