The Snipe and her Nesting-Haunts 371 
filled with dry grass, on which are laid the four beautiful pear-shaped eggs, with their 
rich olive and brown blotches. ‘The young are delightful balls of rich dark-coloured 
down, spotted and striped with white, yellow, and reddish brown; they leave the 
nest as soon as all the eggs are hatched, and are strong on the leg and able to run 
quickly at once. 
It is quite probable that two broods are reared, as nests with eggs may be found 
as late as June; this conclusion, however, is not altogether necessary to account for 
the late nests, as, apart from the probability that some may get taken, a good number 
are destroyed by some natural enemy, as the frequent finding of nests with empty 
ege shells amply testifies—the work, almost without doubt, of rats. Like most birds 
on the loss of their nests, the snipe lose little time in making a fresh start; but 
several weeks may be lost, and hence the late nests. 
It was one of these late nests which gave me—towards the end of the first week 
in June—the opportunity of taking the photograph of the old snipe here reproduced. 
I kmew of the nest, and also that the bird was sitting hard and likely to hatch-off 
any day; so I journeyed to Upware the first evening I was at liberty, and put up 
at that famous inn “Five Miles from Anywhere,” and just before dark visited my 
snipes nest, which contained three eggs, one of them already chipping. Hastily I 
made some necessary arrangements, such as clearing the herbage from one side of 
the nest and preparing a rough hiding-place for myself twenty yards away, where 
I could he concealed and, by means of a length of rubber tubing, work the shutter of 
the camera. 
Early next morning I again went to the fen. The slightly altered environment 
had not caused the snipe to desert her nest, which now contained one downy youngster 
and two eggs. Both old birds flew closely around with anxious cries as I arranged 
the camera. Carefully noting that everything was in working order, I crept under the 
heap of cut sedge which I had placed ready overnight. Although I could see the 
nest, the imtervening grass prevented my getting as clear a view as I could have 
desired It was now half-past seven; the grey misty clouds of early morning had 
disappeared, and were replaced by others of more decided form, which were coming 
up at a good pace before the wind, but allowing brief gleams of the sunshine for which 
I had hoped. The snipe had moved further away, and I could hear one, probably 
the male, “bleating” a good distance off. 
I began to fear they had taken fright, 
but at ten minutes to eight I heard the 
rapidly repeated cry which a snipe makes 
when alighting, followed by the whirring of 
wings close over my head, and I had the 
satisfaction of seeing her drop about six feet 
from the nest. It was a very anxious time 
for me; she was out of sight among some 
long grass, but I could hear her uttering 
low cries as though she mistrusted the lens 
which glared, single-eyed, before her. For 
a quarter of an hour she showed no sign, 
but at five minutes past eight she moved 
out where I could catch a sight of her, and, 
glancing nervously around, suddenly, as it 
were, she made up her mind and ran on 
to the nest. It was very dull, for a large 
cloud was passing over the sun; glancing GATHERING THE EGGS UNDER HER. 
