468 THE ZOOLOGIST. 



walked to the crests of low hills forming boundary of one side of 

 river valley. I soon heard the ground-note of the Great Plovers, 

 who appeared to be spread about over the ploughed and stubble 

 fields in all directions, where, no doubt, they had been feeding 

 during the night. They must have flown back soon after my 

 arrival. I heard the short wail, the latter part of the note 

 divested of its preliminary trills and twitterings, which are 

 uttered, as I think, only on the ground, and by 5.30, when it 

 was only just daylight, all must have gone, for there was 

 complete silence. I had seen none flying, so must have missed 

 them in the gloom. None flew later, which would have been 

 quite contrary to their custom. 



October 5th. — Wishing to see the Plovers fly off for the night, 

 I walked along the road skirting the heath a good deal further 

 than I had done before, so that I was now on the other (not the 

 river) side of their assembly ground. I sat down against a fir- 

 tree. Did not note exact time, but heard their note, and they 

 were soon in full cry. As dusk came on they began to fly, and 

 in greater numbers than I have yet seen, not towards the river, 

 as those I had hitherto seen had done, but towards me, and 

 away from it (south, that is). I noticed, however, a tendency to 

 curve gradually round, which may have brought them in time to 

 the river. Forty-four flew away together (this was the greatest 

 number) ; I could count them easily, as they were between me 

 and that part of the sky which had the sunset glow in it. The 

 flock of forty-four soon spread out into a long irregular line. 



By 6.15 p.m. one hundred and fifty-seven had flown (or, more 

 properly, I had counted this number), after which the cry ceased. 

 Though I did not look at my watch, the probable time when I 

 arrived was 5.40 or 5.45. So that the birds had taken half an 

 hour to forty minutes to get off. 



It would appear, therefore, that the majority of the birds fly 

 not towards and across, but away from the river (south, more or 

 less). I saw none fly in the former direction, but there I had 

 not the light in the sky, and they would have been flying away 

 from instead of towards me. These reasons would be fully 

 sufficient, and I have no doubt that as many flew that way as 

 upon other evenings. 



October 6th. — Towards evening walked to the bracken-covered 



