effortless turn, apparently ; and then follows a downward 
swoop, or fall, with half-closed wings. To this swoop there 
succeeds a surprising change. In an instant the wing-beat 
is increased to an incredible speed, causing the body to turn 
a half, and sometimes even a complete somersault. But 
the next instant he is up and away over the ground with 
musical wing-beats, tilting and swaying from side to side 
with wonderful buoyancy. 
Throughout, this delightful performance is accompanied 
by a wild and joyous song, which seems to be attuned to the 
somewhat bleak surroundings. It thrills one even to re- 
member it in later days: and it defies one to express it in 
human fashion. It has been as nearly rendered as any 
version I have ever seen—and I have seen many—by Mr. 
Brock. It is not a whistle, nor is it like any sound that can 
be faithfully rendered by the human voice, yet it seems to 
say ‘‘ whey-willuchooee-willuch-willuch-cooee.’ It suffers a 
break, remarks Mr. Farren, commenting on this theme, 
during the flutter of the wings at the end of the fall, but is 
picked up at once with a triumphant ‘‘ coo-whee, coo-ee,” 
as the bird dashes off at the end of the somersault. 
The lapwing is very intolerant of any trespass on his 
breeding territory on the part of his neighbours. As soon 
as the intruder is sighted, the owner of the territory charges. 
And the two then mount up into the air, often to a great 
195 
