THE GAME BIRDS OF INDIA, BURMA AND CEYLON. 23 



-finite manner it has of flying is often far more puzzling to a beginner 

 lhan the flights of swifter straighter-going birds. Its very haunts, of 

 course, add to the difficulties of shooting as in addition to its natur- 

 ally zigzag flight it is constantly twisting and dodging to escape 

 obstructions, then too the light is often not of the best and the 

 extreme silence of its rise and flight is in itself disconcerting. There 

 is no warning whirr of wings or " pench " as of a snipe rising, the 

 first thing is you see it, perhaps only as it flits behind some impossible 

 jungle, barely giving time for a hasty snap shot. 



In India the Woodcock seems to be of a far more tame and confid- 

 ing nature than it is in Europe and this also affects the flight as the 

 bird makes no effort to get away at any pace when it is flushed. 

 Hume writes : — " When migrating they are said to fly strongly and 

 well, but when flushed, the flight is at first slow, uncertain and Owl- 

 like, and ceases suddenly, the bird dropping instantaneously behind 

 some bush. I have never had any sport with Woodcock in Northern 

 India. I have often shot them, rarely more than three in a day ; but 

 they gave no sort of sport. They fluttered up flushed by the dogs or 

 some beater within twenty yards, and were knocked over by a snap 

 shot as they hung wavering on first rising. One shot them because 

 they were so good to eat ; in every other respect they were not worth 

 shooting. They don't seem to fly a bit as Woodcock do in covers at 

 home, where even a good shot is at times baulked ; but, like Snipe, and 

 almost every living thing domiciled in this " clime of the sun," they 

 seem to have become listless and sluggish. " 



The manner in which Woodcock are said to perform surgical 

 operations on their own wounds has often been alluded and is a com- 

 mon belief with gamekeepers and others, indeed many sportsmen 

 whom I have met are quite convinced that the apparent attention 

 which has been paid to a wound is the intelligent work of the bird 

 itself. Thus Major Wilson writes me : — " On two occasions I have 

 noticed instances of the so-called wonderful way the Woodcock has 

 of doctoring itself. One day I wounded a bird, saw it go off badly 

 hit but failed to pick it up. A fortnight or so later I flushed a bird 

 in exactly the same place and got it. It seemed in very poor con- 

 dition and on examining it, I found it had what looked like a re- 

 gular splint on one of its legs formed of a tiny piece of stick most 

 carefully bound round with feathers. The other case was one of a 



