THE SOLITARY SANDPIPER — 189 
and peace of the meadow brook to the changing 
scenes of the wider world of his big cousins, 
the ‘‘winter’? and ‘‘summer yellow-legs.’’ 
Around some lonely pool in pasture land or 
meadow he gleans his fare of insects and larve 
scarcely ever breaking the quiet of his haunt 
with a whistle, for he is the silent member of the 
family, more taciturn than any of the tribe, and 
content with the company of his own thoughts. 
This bird is not confined to the marshes of the 
coast; he is fully as likely to be found in the in- 
terior, and is a common visitor in almost any 
suitable spot on the North American continent. 
If you come suddenly into a narrow run-way, its 
high protecting banks shutting out the rest of 
the world with a thick wall of brush and trees, 
and overgrown with long grass, with still and 
shallow waters, stagnant and slow,—the chosen 
haunt of bittern and heron,—on muddy edge or 
slimy stone standing sentinel over all is the 
‘‘Solitary.’’ Sometimes his mate is near by or 
perhaps his nearly grown family has not yet 
left the parental care, and all make off in baste 
the instant you have fairly shown yourself. 
You note that his flight is much like that of the 
spotted sandpiper, his wings down-curved in the 
