WILSON’S SNIPE 139 
the place much you will know just where to 
find the birds, and have in mind every stretch 
of mud, pondhole and clump of grass where you 
have found them before. Sometimes you may 
see the Snipe arriving in the marsh. Suddenly 
he appears to you—where he came from you 
know not—but there he is! With rapid wing 
strokes he dashes around the marsh a hundred 
yards up, seeking a suitable place on which to 
rest and feed. His shining wing flickers in 
the sun as the light colored under parts are 
brought into sight and covered again, and he 
shows up sharp and clear against the blue Oc- 
tober sky as he goes darting over the tall wav- 
ing grass and stretches of blue water, circling 
about in silence—a marked contrast to any 
other shorebird, which would have called and 
whistled his arrival to every dweller in the 
marsh, both friend and foe. Small success at- 
tends your most alluring whistle for rarely does 
the Snipe pay attention to any enticing call. 
Our hero is unsocial and seldom cares for so- 
ciety, even of his own aristocratic set, rarely 
traveling in bunches of more than three birds 
and more often coming alone. Now he has 
found a place to his liking and half closing his 
