WOODCOCK AND SNIPE 99 



brown, grey, and dingy buff, that look as if they 

 had been blown on the stone and then slipped 

 off, half hiding the dry grass and leaves at the 

 bottom. One should never pass over such trifles ; 

 we see as we look closely some arrangement about 

 it. Something glitters, then we have it all, a per- 

 fect picture. For there sits a Woodcock, hovered 

 on her nest, her long bill half hidden in the breast 

 feathers, the tip just touching the outside edge of 

 the nest. We can make out the upper part of her 

 and that is all, so closely do the mottlings of her 

 plumage fall in with the bits of stuff round about her. 



But it is her full glistening eye that we can see 

 distinctly ; that, we know, is watching us as we 

 stand, hardly venturing to breathe fully. She can 

 only see part of us, and that is the worst part, head 

 and eyes. The strain is more than we can put up 

 with. Nothing is so tiring as to stand perfectly 

 still in a strained position. But as we move, crack 

 goes a dead stick underfoot. Flick — flick — flick ! 

 she is up and off, twisting through the twigs and 

 branches in a wonderful manner. She had just 

 begun to sit ; we do not take the bird's eggs, we 

 are only too pleased to have had the luck to see it. 

 If the eggs had been hatched out we should have 

 seen the usual shifts to draw our attention from the 

 chicks. She would have fussed about, drooped her 

 wings, and spread out her tail, holding it up like a 

 fan, showing the silvery-white tips of the under tail 

 feathers. 



Woodcocks breed fairly well in our southern 



