122 RECREATION 
command and just clearing the top of the 
same bush, dropped down again on this 
side within a yard, I should think, of where 
it got up.” 7 
And this was within a rod of where we 
then stood. I called out to Rex to ‘Go 
on,”’? and he advanced, when up went five 
woodcock, uttering their peculiar, querulous 
whistle, in protest at being disturbed. They 
made only a short flight and dropped down 
on the other side of the sag or in the edge of 
the corn-field, it being impossible to tell 
which from our location. 
Ordering Rex to heel and going very 
quietly around to the opposite side to avoid 
the dense and tangled undergrowth, and 
crossing the stone wall, we carefully scru- 
tinized the ground at the edge of the growing 
corn and were soon rewarded with a strik- 
ing and beautiful sight. A full-grown and 
well-fed woodcock came strutting out to the 
edge of the corn, head up and tail-feathers 
spread out like a fan and almost touching 
the back of his head; he was a picture of 
pride and independence, indeed. His right 
to reign “‘ King of the Sag”’ we then did not 
dispute, but promised to call another day, 
when we hoped we would find him at home. 
We quietly retraced our steps and took 
our departure to Woodcock Rock, a mile or 
more away. Here is another and larger 
sag, with woodcock conditions accentuated. 
Here such riotous undergrowth abounds 
that it is impossible to get a shot when fol- 
lowing the dog, but a kindly Providence has 
located a huge boulder near the center, from 
the top of which a fine view is afforded 
overlooking the surrounding shrubbery and 
overhanging grape-vines. Standing upon 
this rock during the last season, with a 
friend to beat the cover with the dog and to 
give notice when he pointed, it was my rare 
good fortune with three shots to kill four 
woodcock as they rose above the tops of the 
bushes—the only time in my somewhat 
lengthened shooting career that I ever killed 
two woodcock at one shot. 
Here we put a small bell on Rex’s neck 
and sent him into the cover at random. In 
a few moments the tinkle of the bell ceased 
and again we knew that Woodcock Rock 
was true to its tradition. Promising to again 
revisit it on opening day we retraced our 
steps to the farmhouse where we had agreed 
to sample some of our friend’s cider, 
whipped up with fresh eggs, upon which a 
little nutmeg was to be grated—funny- 
guggle water he called it—with our midday 
lunch. Here a lengthy after-dinner hour 
was spent in living over old experiences and 
telling the tales of other days. 
Being asked if he had ever seen woodcock 
carrying their young, the farmer answered 
affirmatively in the most positive manner. 
“Why,” said he, “‘it was only las’ spring 
when me an’ the boys was plantin’ the corn 
we seed ’em do it. Ol’ Tige got a wood- 
chuck in the wall and he made such a tarna- 
tion fuss about it, yelpin’ and barkin’ and 
diggin’ that I suppose the ol’ mother got 
afraid to stay thar. ’Tany rate, Jake seed 
her first and sung out to rest on us to look, 
and we all seed ol’ mother woodcock, 
claspin’ her young un to her bosom like any 
mother would, flyin’ off down to the big 
sag—Woodcock Rock, you call it.” 
And in relation to the homing instinct of 
birds he was not less prompt and positive. 
‘Well, yes, you know ol’ Cripple Jack, 
I told you on las’ year? Wa’al, he’s here 
agin this year, he is, an’ I don’t b’lieve he is 
such a fool as to try and stay in these parts 
all winter. I swan I don’t. If he’d tried it, 
he’d been a dead woodcock, sure.” 
Old Cripple Jack is a woodcock with one 
eye destroyed and a broken leg that it would 
take a pile of evidence bigger than Wachu- 
sett Mountain to make our farmer friend 
believe is not the same identical woodcock 
that he has now seen two years in succes- 
sion, and that after his winter’s sojourn in 
the sunny South he returned to his old 
mountain home in New England. 
The sun was now well aslant in the 
heavens and, after a day pleasantly passed 
amid old scenes and old haunts that cheer 
the heart of the sportsman, we took our 
departure for a leisurely drive homeward, 
with a compact made and entered into, with 
all the binding force of signed, sealed and 
delivered, to be again on the sloping hill- 
sides and in the sags of old Wachusett in the 
early dawn of September 1, with dog and 
gun, 
Be eons 
