ceased piping from the stubble-field, or 

 the roll-call of the partridge came no 

 longer from the woods. The Woodcock 

 is perhaps the most unobtrusive member 

 of our bird-fauna. His comings and 

 goings are in the night, and his stations 

 are in the low swampy grounds in the 

 forest among the conocefhalus and skunk 

 cabbage and dainty fern. Even if a visit 

 to his haunts shows nothing to be dis- 

 tinguished from a brown leaf or chunk, 

 until a whistling projectile is thrown 

 through the air from near one's feet, but 

 a little farther on. 



His nest is as inconspicuous as he is, 

 simply a hollow in the leaves and four 

 rather large eggs so colored as to be 

 almost indistinguishable from the back- 

 ground. They are four in number, and 

 I have never found them except with the 

 pointed ends toward the center of the 

 nest. His youngsters, too, are so much 

 like the surrounding leaves of the for- 

 est-floor that it makes little difference 

 whether they hide behind one of them 

 or in front of it. 



Perhaps the most conspicuous thing 

 about the Woodcock's premises, more 

 showy than birds, or nest, or young, are 

 his borings in the rich black earth where 

 he has stuck down his bill to feel for 

 worms. I have heard one farmer say 

 "he'd heard they get their nourishment 

 directly from the ground," though I can- 

 not say how widely the notion has spread. 



As things now exist, there are particu- 

 lar and special reasons why the Wood- 

 cock should have a difficult time of it to 

 escape extinction. As he does not stay 

 with us in the northern states the year 

 round, I believe there is in many of the 

 states no law protecting him at all, so 

 that the sportsman has a whack at him 

 (or several) every time he sees him. And 

 the Woodcock's own way of doing things . 

 is much to his disadvantage. His way 

 of getting up and going is the most tan- 

 talizing way possible of saying to the 

 man with the gun, "give you leave," and 

 most sportsmen, though they had men- 

 tally resolved to let the Woodcock alone 

 this trip, would likely pull up and blaze 

 away by reflex action before they had 

 time to think. On the whole the Wood- 

 cock is not so hard to hit, especially with 

 a scattering shotgun, as he seems; for 

 the whistling of his wings enables one to 



shoot by ear as well as by sight, and it 

 is possible that when these two senses 

 complement each other, the hearing may 

 help more than we generally suppose. 

 Again, the Woodcock does not fly far, 

 and can easily be found again, and he is 

 willing to "give you leave" as many 

 times as you want, and there are hunters 

 who will follow up the game. Perhaps it 

 would help matters if the hunters would 

 carry a rifle and promise to be content 

 with only one shot. It is almost wrong 

 to tell what a delectable morsel the bird 

 is, juicy, rich, and of a gamy flavor, but 

 it is a food we can get along very well 

 without. 



To the naturalist, the complete extinc- 

 tion of any creature whatever, even the 

 most insignificant or harmful, is looked 

 upon as a calamity, for that means cut- 

 ting out forever all future investigations 

 of relationships and habits, and a thou- 

 sand questions that the world, having 

 grappled with so far unsuccessfully, is 

 anxious to hand over to succeeding and 

 increasingly better equipped and wiser 

 generations. And in habits and relation- 

 ships our Woodcock is by no means the 

 least interesting of our animals. Most of 

 his relatives cling to the shore, but he 

 goes far into the wooded swamps. 



The Woodcock's aerial dance and song 

 is one of the events of the year, and 

 though it is pretty well known about by 

 naturalists, it is surprising to observe 

 how few people have ever observed it. 

 It was, after all, a particularly fine stroke 

 of Emerson's when he mentioned as one 

 of the rare treats that come to the forest 

 seer, that "He heard the Woodcock's 

 evening hymn." Too many of our natur- 

 alists, it is to be feared, have been content 

 with the daytime, and have unwisely 

 handed over the gloaming to the people 

 who go two-by-two, and so missed some 

 of the finest that happen out of doors — 

 the Woodcock's wooing, and the ways of 

 the little people of the dusk ; the flutter 

 of owl and bat ; the sailing of the flying- 

 squirrel and scamper of the wee wood 

 mice. 



Perhaps no other of our birds take such 

 especial care of their young as the Wood- 

 cock, which, clasping the young between 

 its feet, rises and flies with it to the feed- 

 ing-grounds. 



H. Walton Clark. 



