474 THE ZOOLOGIST. 



Do not now think that what I heard was the Great Plover. 

 Believe they are all gone. 



October 31st. — (Fine bright day. Sky almost cloudless.) 



5.10 p.m. — On road by moor again; same place. 



Saw no Great Plovers flying, neither had I seen any whilst 

 walking up, nor did I when returning (though it would have 

 been too dark to, unless they had come very near). I, however, 

 again heard several times distinctly that note which, on previous 

 evenings lately, I had thought might proceed from these birds. 

 Whether it does or not I cannot feel sure. It is merely a short 

 single note, but in tone and character resembling, or at least 

 recalling, the Great Plover's. It may possibly be a less usually 

 heard note of a Pheasant or Partridge. If not, then (unless to 

 the Great Plover) I do not know to what bird to attribute it. 

 But, as for nearly a week now I have seen none of these birds 

 flying, nor put any up whilst walking over their former assembly- 

 grounds, I think they must be all gone. 



November 1st. — At 5 p.m. I was at the bank, and walked all 

 about that part of the moor near it where the Great Plovers had 

 been wont to assemble. It was quite deserted. I did not put a 

 bird up or hear the cry of one. Daylight was only just ceasing, 

 and I should have seen any bird that I had disturbed. 



Short resume of the birds habits during September and October, 

 as observed in the foregoing. 



The Great Plovers have regular places of assembly, where 

 they sit or stand during the day in more or less close proximity 

 to one another. 



They prefer a place with some cover to one quite bare.* As 

 evening falls they indulge in curious and excited motions, which 

 may be called dances, or dance-antics. These are accompanied 

 with their wild wailing note, which is of a peculiar character. It 

 ends in a wail, but there is a prelude — often a long one — which 

 begins with some high-pitched plaintive cries, and then passes 



* By far the greatest number of the birds passed the day amongst the 

 heather near the bank. I have not specially noted it, but it was the skirts 

 of the amphitheatre which had more or less cover (grass, withered heather, 

 &c.) where they rested, and there were generally some in the bracken itself, 

 where this was thin. They spread over the open space as evening came on, 

 or earlier if moths or other insects attracted them. 



