Snipe, Sandpipers, etc. 



quite independently of the lower one — a fact only recently dis- 

 covered by Mr. Gurdon Trumbull. Owing to the position of the 

 eyes, at the back of the head, food must be felt rather than seen; 

 but, so sensitive is the tip of the bill, and so far out of sight are 

 the worms, in any case the eyes serve a better purpose in being 

 placed where they widen the bird's vision and so detect an 

 enemy afar. It is claimed by some that, like the owls, woodcock 

 see best at night. Worms come to the surface after dark, which 

 explains this and many other birds' nocturnal habits. 



In the early spring any one who takes an interest in the 

 woodcock, aside from its flavor, will be repaid for one's tramp 

 through the swale, at evening, to see the bird go through a series 

 of aerial antics and attestations of affection to his innamorata. 

 Standing with his bill pointing downward and his body inclined 

 forward, he calls out pink, pink, as much as to say: "Now 

 look, the performance is about to begin " ; then suddenly he 

 springs from the ground, flies around and around in circles, his 

 short stiff wings whistling as he goes, higher, higher, faster, 

 faster, and louder and louder, as he sweeps by overhead in erratic 

 circles, each overlapping the other, until the end of the spiral 

 described must be fully three hundred feet from the ground. 

 Now, uttering a sharp whistle, down he comes, pitching, dart- 

 ing, and finally alighting very near the spot from which he set 

 out. Pink, pink, he again calls, to make sure his efforts are 

 not lost upon the object of his affection, and before he can 

 fairly have recovered his breath, off he goes on another series of 

 gyrations accompanied by wing music. Or, he may dance 

 jigs when in the actual presence of the loved one. Cranes, 

 plovers, owls, and flickers, among others, go through clownish 

 performances to win their mates, in some instances the females 

 joining in; but the woodhen, as the proper-nice people say, 

 remains coy and apparently coldly indifferent to the madness 

 of her lover. He will sometimes stand motionless, as if medi- 

 tating on some new method of winning her, his head drawn 

 in, his bill pressing against his breast. Then, with his short 

 tail raised and outstretched like a grouse's, and with dropped 

 wings trailing beside him, he will strut about with a high step — 

 a comical picture of dignity and importance. 



Little time need be taken from the honeymoon to make a 

 nest. This consists of a few dry leaves on the ground in the 



