it will pursue a straight course, with arrow-Uke speed. Yet 

 its cousin, the jack-snipe, never twists. 



Why does the woodcock invariably drop after a charge of 

 shot, even though not a pellet has touched it, while a snipe 

 pursues its way ? These differences are not merely differ- 

 ences of " habit " : they indicate subtle differences in nervous 

 response to the same kind of stimulus, and in structural 

 details yet to be unravelled. 



Some day the cinematograph will rieveal to us aU the 

 phases of flight and the movements to which they are due. 

 Even now, thanks to the modem camera, we have learned a 

 great deal. We have learned, for example, that the flight 

 of a bird is not effected merely by rapid up and down move- 

 ments of the fuUy extended wings, or with flexed wings — 

 that is to say, half -closed, as in " gliding " flight when a bird 

 is descending, or in the swoop of, say, the sparrowhawk. 

 Only in one of these two positions do we ever seem to see the 

 wings when we have to trust to our eyes alone, as the bird 

 hurries past us. The impression that we have seen aright 

 is confirmed when we stand on the deck of a steamer, and 

 watch the gulls following in its wake. For incredibly long 

 distances they will travel without a perceptible wing-beat. 

 The albatross is the finest of all performers in regard to this 

 kind of flight, which is due, apparently, to air currents created 

 by stiff breezes, or gales. Some birds seem to make their 



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