576 
BIRD-LIFE. 
for it is easily overlooked by the sharpest eye. The bird 
lies motionless and closely crouched to the ground, or on 
an old moss-covered bank or tree, never sitting on the latter 
crosswise, as other birds do, but always in the same direc¬ 
tion as the branch, and its plumage so much resembles the 
bark in colouring that one can scarcely tell the difference 
between bird and branch. Besides this, the creature is 
too cunning, even on seeing an enemy, to betray itself by 
the slightest movement, and rather than take wing it, on 
the contrary, presses itself closer to the ground or tree, 
where it will remain blinking with half-closed eyes, until 
imminent danger forces it to take wing. If flushed it 
flies with rapid and apparently uncertain flight to the 
nearest hiding-place, generally a thicket, where it 
ensconces itself so closely as only to be found again with 
great difficulty, or perhaps not at all. Its gait can 
scarcely be called walking, but rather a tripping kind of 
run, accomplished with much difficulty; it is a mode of 
locomotion which the bird never makes use of but to 
reach the nearest bush, under which it wishes to repose. 
This bird is so conscious of the protection afforded it by 
the admirable adaptation of the colouring of its plumage 
to that of the locality which it inhabits, that it always 
relies on this gift to hide it from observation. 
At the approach of twilight it awakens into life; this I 
have observed both in Spain and Africa. At sundown it 
begins to rouse itself; stretching itself it raises a wing, 
perhaps preens a feather or so, half opens its eyes, blinks, 
crawls a few steps, and prepares itself for flight. As soon 
as twilight reigns, and moths and beetles begin to fly 
about, it takes wing lightly and noiselessly, its flight 
much resembling that of the Swallow: at first it skims 
backwards and forwards over a short space, alighting 
