WOODCOCK. 19 



hurt being very skilfully covered with a plaster of congealed 

 blood and feathery substance nicely smoothed over. 



A question of some interest has at times occupied sports- 

 men and ornithologists. Do the snipe and woodcock hear 

 or smell their vermicular prey? They cannot of course see it, 

 for it is inches beneath the sufaceof the soil. Any one who cares 

 to watch a blackbird hunting for food after ashower of rain can 

 hardly fail to come to the conclusion that he, at any rate, uses 

 his ears as well as his eyes when finding food. He gives a hop 

 or two, and stops: another hop or two, and another stop. Did 

 he just catch a promising sound a foot or two off to his right 

 front? It looks like it. Another hop or two in that direction 

 and then, for two or three seconds, he stands the very incarn- 

 ation of listening : head to one side, eye cast up, every muscle 

 still, and the whole body forming a hopeful interrogation-point. 

 It does not take all this time to decide the question. A second 

 or two, and the answer comes. If favourable, there is an-, 

 other hop forward, a confident dig with the beak at a certain 

 spot in the ground, and out comethreeorfour inches of fresh 

 food. If the snipe or the woodcock have any such power of 

 hearing, we have no definite record of it. What we do know 

 is that the beak is a mass of nerves admirably adapted for 

 the most delicate operations of touch, and for the discovery 

 of v/orms. 



What was said of the liking which snipe show for certain 

 favourite spots is equally applicable to the woodcock. In the 

 daytime during the winter certain clumps of evergreens 

 in the Kashing district used to be a certain find if 'cock were 

 in the neighbourhood. They are specially fond of holly 

 for a covering, and they lie very close. Last Christmas a 

 native gunner with a mongrel dog put one out from a little 

 grave mound which I had but just passed. I had no dog, 

 however. The deadly jingal did its work, and a fine bird 

 went into the bottom of the'little boat which carried the sports- 

 man on his way. I once saw a 'cock just about where Mr. 

 Evans's book-store now stands in the North Szechuen Road, 

 and at the proper season have met with them practically all 

 over the parts of the province usually patronized in shooting 

 trips. The 'cock provides either extremely easy or extremely 

 difficult shots. In the open he will at times flap along like 

 an owl, but when in cover and really alarmed, the way he darts 

 about amongst the trees is extremely disconcerting. In cold 

 blustery weather they rather like the comfort of a deep-cut 

 gully or ditch. If flushed from amongst bamboos they usually 

 afford easy shots. 



One 'cock often means many. For though the most 

 solitary of all birds perhaps, and the most independent so far 

 as gregarious movements are concerned, yet the instinct to 



