208 FEATHERED GAME 
The Upland’s call is somewhat similar to the 
‘‘winter’s,’? equally clear and musical and 
rather more mellow in tone. Not so pow- 
erful as the whistle of the ‘‘yellow-legs,’’ nor 
so long extended, it is in most cases three clear, 
quickly-sounded notes, which are heard much 
farther than would at first be thought. They 
have also, a low, twittering note in conversation 
among themselves,—a sound like gurgling wa- 
ter, but not sufficiently like it to cure your Au- 
gust thirst contracted in pursuit of them. When 
a flock is disturbed in their home fields, the scat- 
tered members keep up a continual chorus of 
this music from one bunch to another as they 
wheel about in search of safe grounds to rest 
upon. Seen on the wing when moving care- 
lessly about in the mere enjoyment of flight, 
traveling from knoll to knoll and not alarmed, 
they will remind the observer of some of the 
smaller hawks from their swift, sharp strokes 
alternating with an easy, sailing flight. The 
gunner will notice, however, this difference 
from the sailing of the hawks—that, in shore- 
bird fashion, they carry their wings deeply 
down-curved. 
There is little profit in trying to call them. 
