FIELD NOTES. 379 



for them throughout the winter, as I said before. There is the 

 saw-note of the Great Tit amongst the pines, now, as in the 

 spring, but not quite so loud, and it does not last so long. Also 

 the Coal-Tit's spring note, which is very much the same. 



I counted twenty-three Moorhens to-day, browsing together, 

 over the meadow by the little stream. One of them rushed 

 violently from a considerable distance, at a group of three, put- 

 ting them all to flight. A swift, determined bull-headed rush, as 

 before described — the head held down and forward, in a straight 

 line with the body. 



December 17th. — At the creek this morning. A pair of Dab- 

 chicks play about for a little, in each other's company. Their 

 note, at first, is a quiet " chu-chu-chu-chu-chu-chu." Then side 

 by side, and with their heads close together, they burst suddenly 

 forth with " cheelee, leelee, leelee, leelee, leelee, leelee." It is 

 as if they said, " Shall we ? Well then — now then," and started. 

 This is the Dabchick's contentment note. You know what it 

 means directly. It expresses satisfaction with what has already 

 been accomplished, present complacency, and a robust determina- 

 tion to continue to walk — or swim — in the plain path of duty and 

 pleasure. What a pretty little scene ! And how grand to be 

 watching it from a few yards off with not a Dabchick the wiser ! 

 You little shy, cool-dipping, reed-haunting things — so dapper 

 and circumspect ! What then ! Have I " torn out the heart of 

 your mystery " ? No doubt about what you say for the future. 

 I have it here. Yes, and I know what it means, and bow you 

 say it. 



December 18th. — At the creek, to-day, there is the most extra- 

 ordinary note, on the bank just opposite, either in some alder 

 trees or amongst the grass at their base. I now see a Snipe on 

 the ground, near the alders, and to him I must attribute this 

 strange sound. There are two feeding — and another I see in the 

 shallow water, just off the bank. One of the two — but an alder now 

 hides them— utters a hoarse, grating, lengthened cry, like "ckac- 

 cha-a-a-a-a-a " (a as in " air "), and this is more than twelve 

 times repeated. The other one, whilst in full view, and quite 

 near, suddenly disappears in a mysterious way. He does not 

 seem to move, but is all at once gone, and I search for him in 

 vain, with the glasses. Now, however, I see him — just where he 



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