444 THE LAPWING'S FLIGHT. 
or runs, dips his wings in the clear cool stream, or with a thousand and 
one devices seeks to draw the stranger from the neighbourhood of his 
nest. Like the swallow, he heralds the return of genial spring; he comes 
back to us about the same time as the lark, and is often to be seen in 
the later days of winter, when he must be hard pressed for food. In 
his case, as in that of some other birds, it has been remarked that the 
great migrating band is preceded by certain skirmishers, or precursors, 
whose duty we may fancy to be the choice and preparation of suitable 
abodes. Too frequently their hopes are blighted by a sudden change 
of weather. A snowstorm, occurring late in spring, buries their food 
beneath its deep white shroud. However, they seem sanguine of a 
brighter future, and, far from beating a retreat, wander from stream 
to stream, and roam far over heath and moor. But, as with mortals, 
while they hope they suffer ; they grow thin and feeble, and at last 
they perish. Generally the immigrants are more fortunate, time their 
arrival happily, and endure without loss or injury the last chill frowns 
of winter. At the season of their migrations their characteristic cry 
often disturbs the silent night ; while by day we may see them, especi- 
ally in the plains and valleys, and on the river-banks, pursuing their 
apparently trackless way in numerous bands. 
As we have said, the lapwing flies well, and his flight is very 
various. Above water or near the ground he advances with a slow 
beat of the wings ; but as soon as he has gained the heights of air 
he gives himself up to the fullest enjoyment, and every movement 
becomes expressive. It is interesting to watch him when any danger 
threatens ; then it is that he executes his most audacious performances : 
he dashes headlong towards the ground, to rise again almost immedi- 
ately ; he darts to right, to left, tumbles over and over, sinks to earth, 
runs a few steps, remounts, and a second time goes through the whole 
series of feats. The female, when frightened from her nest, does not 
take wing immediately, but first runs to a considerable distance, 
preserving the utmost quiet. When she rises, she breaks her silence, 
and fills the echoes with her reiterated and most doleful pee-wit. As 
she approaches and wheels about the intruder, her tones increase in 
