10 THE OOLOGIST 
Where the Woodcock Lurks. 
“Meet me at six to-morrow morning 
near Crow Creek. When you reach a 
clump of Sumach follow up the ridge 
to some heavy undergrowth, known as 
Hazel Top. This drizzle has practi- 
cally taken the frcst out of the ground, 
and the Woodcock will be probing the 
mellow soil along the brook bottom. 
Last year while scouting among this 
undergrowth, I chanced up on an old 
hen with four little Bog-suckers. They 
were the prettiest creatures I ever 
saw; probably out of the shell about 
three days, and covered with mark 
ings of hazel brown and chestnut. 
Many of our birds emerge from the 
shell naked and blind. Often they are 
awkward and ungainly after leaving 
the nest. I held these chicks in my hand 
and studied them carefully for half 
an hour, much to the discomforture 
of the parent. She circled about drop- 
ping into the leaves, strutting like a 
Turkey Cock, wings drooped and bill 
slightly open. I’m sure this pair have 
taken up their abode in the same tract 
this Spring, because I heard the male 
“Circling.” 
‘Up the Creek where the stream 
broadens into a slough IJ shot several 
Mallard. At dusk when I reached 
Hazel Top, the moon was rising and 
I listened for that nasal note so sug- 
gestive of the Night-hawk’s call. Pres- 
ently I heard the old cock who was 
quite a ventriloquist. After locating 
the bush under which I heard him 
“queeking,”’ a rustle of wings predict- 
ed an aerial flight. I walked around 
in the soft ooze, tempted to look for 
the mate, feeling positive she was cov- 
ering four yellow-brown eggs on some 
one of the many knolls. If we go 
there tomorrow I hope to show you 
what appears to be a ball of animated 
leaves, Do not be surprised if I stop 
or pause abruptly, as I’m apt to walk 
within two feet of the nest before her 
black beads lend to that somber bed 
of leaves a most vital appearance.” 
Ralph appeared at the appointed 
time next morning, and with a stron; 
west wind blowing against our faces, 
we headed up the rivulet. The first 
brush we entered, near the foot of 
Hazel Top, had been burned since the 
shedding of the leaves last Fall and 
betore the Catkins had burst forth 
this month. Three or tour chalky 
patches on the leaves announced the 
presence of a Woodcock, and closer 
scrutinizing revealed honey-combed 
patches in the earth, showing where 
the birds had been probing within 
the last twenty-four hours, “Did you 
hear that whistle? Sounded like 
the notes of a Cow Bird? That was 
the Woodcock, his. short, broad 
wings with their outer primaries turn- 
ed, produces that quivering whistle 
wheu rising perpendicular to a height 
ot ten 1eet before taking a horizontal 
course and dropping zig-zag into an- 
other cover. The hen is sitting turth- 
er westward in the unburned portion® 
the bushes here are too exposed 
around the base.” 
I crawled through the fence to ex- 
amine a clump of poplars and saw the 
female, her back toward me, with 
nead and bill turned at right angles 
to her body. She was five feet from 
the fence post and sitting with a south 
exposure. Never before had I “caught” 
one on the nest, sitting at “right an- 
gles.””’ If this madam had turned her 
head to look, it was before I saw her, 
and she remained in what appeared to 
be a very cramped position for fif- 
teen minutes. Ralph stooped to stroke 
that velvet like back before she vacat- 
ed her nest. I never saw such an ir- 
regularly marked clutch. If I were 
to send them to some correspondent 
he might accuse me of “making up a 
