THE WOODCOCK. 49 



varied by the change of flight. No other of our upland 

 game birds whistles in its flight, for no other possesses 

 these peculiar characteristics. 



I have flushed moulting birds when these first three 

 feathers were imperfect, and only the faintest whistle 

 caught my ear; and I have seen them glide away from 

 their nesting -places with full-fledged pinions and make 

 no noise. But when their course is upward, or at a cer- 

 tain angle, in their startled flight, the whistle tells of 

 their presence — a sound as sweet to the sportsman, when 

 out with dog and gun, as was ever the music of ^olian 

 lyre to Apollo' s ear, and, like that, variable, irresponsible, 

 sounding only to the rushing of the wind. 



During the cool moonlight nights of September — that 

 golden month of the harvest moon — woodcock commence 

 to leave their sylvan boudoirs, where they have changed 

 their summer dress, and visit the southern hill-sides, 

 sunny glades, and tinted brakes, there to linger until the 

 sharper frosts shall warn them to be on their journey, 

 ere the winter snows fly among the naked trees and cover 

 the brown hills and meadows. 



But it is when October" s scenes are full upon us, and 

 their beauty reigns supreme by the dashing streams, in 

 the woodlands, and along the furrowed hill-sides, that 

 the finest woodcock-shooting is enjoyed throughout the 

 northern covers. And what can excel an October day, 

 when the morning is clear and fresh, and the frost of the 

 night before, harbinger of the woodcock' s flight, whitens 

 the fence-tops and fallen trees, and hangs sparkling and 

 dripping from the lichen-covered tree-trunks, and from 

 every leaf and twig, while the grasses, wet with the dew 

 which came at sunset, are one mass of fretted silver? or 

 what, when the midday san casts over land and water 

 that misty veil so peculiar to autumnal months, giving to 

 the pine and hemlock a softer hue than at any other 



