The Woodcock is somewhat restricted in its distribution. In this respect it differs from its numerous congeneric brethren, which have a wide dispersion. It is chiefly a denizen of the eastern parts of the United States, and of the British territory immediately adjacent thereto. Fort Rice, in North-western Dakota, according to Coues, and Kansas and Nebraska in the west, seem to be the limits of its range in those directions. Although notable for its scarcity in regions beyond the Mississippi, Iowa excepted, yet it abundantly compensates therefore as we advance eastward. In the Middle and Eastern States they are probably found in greater numbers than elsewhere. While the greater bulk pass north to breed, some abide in the South, and raise their happy little families, in spite of the ardor of the climate.

Few species, if any, arrive earlier. It generally appears from the fifth to the tenth of March in New England and the Middle Atlantic States, although instances are known where birds have been observed as early as the twenty-fourth of February. These cases are, however, rare, and only happen, if at all, when the weather has been remarkably propitious for a lengthy spell. As a few of them have been known to remain all winter in Pennsylvania, and elsewhere, when the season has been fine, may not their emergence from sheltered localities, at such times, be construed by persons who are not cognizant of their presence, or of their occasional disposition to permanence of residence, as but a case of recent arrival? In view of this latter habit, it would be difficult to prove that the visitor had just come from the South, unless it had been discerned in transitu.

Having decided upon their migratory tour, they start in small companies, from four to six in number. These settle down in small tracts of country of a few rods in area on reaching their destination. Low, swampy thickets generally invite their presence. Here they conceal themselves during the day. But when night has dethroned her rival, and temporarily assumed the reins of power, they come out of their grassy retreats, and wander about in search of food. The setting of the sun behind the western hill-tops is the signal for their nocturnal rambles to begin. And well do they keep them up. For it is not until the first streak of morning is seen to glow in the East that they abandon their foragings and retire to accustomed haunts. Few there are who have visited these birds at such times. Let us take our readers to yon neighboring swamp, or by the side of some lowly woodland, which these strange beings delight to frequent. The utmost silence must be maintained, or our friends will be frightened away. While we may not be able to see the objects that have called us hither, we know they are not far away by the rustle which they produce among the dry leaves, and by the peculiar notes which they emit, for there are two or three individuals together, as they move restlessly about in the undergrowth, in their search for worms. Chip-per, chip-per, chip may be heard from the right, and almost in the next instant it is varied to bleat or bleat ta bleat ta, produced in the contrary direction, or off in the distance, showing that the authors thereof have changed their positions. While these birds have an habitual fondness for humid thickets, they not unfrequently betake themselves to corn-fields and other cultivated tracts in close proximity thereto, and even to elevated woods.

For more than a fortnight after their arrival the sexes, though feeding in company, do not apparently manifest a disposition to assume conjugal relationship. The desire for food seems to be uppermost in their minds. The inclemency of the weather, and the coldness of the ground in consequence, may have much to do with holding the amatory forces in check. But when the opportune moment arrives, which it does in the course of events, the sexes stop from their feeding, in a measure, and give the nobler instincts of their being a chance for development. The males are the first to feel the changes which are being wrought in their natures. For more than a week from this time, in the early morning and evening hours, they may be seen exercising themselves by means of "curious spiral gyrations" in mid-air, and uttering, as they descend earthwards, a note which Audubon lias likened to the word kwank. This note may be a call for the female in the spring, but as it is often uttered in the fall after the breed-ing-season is past, it may also be a summons for the gathering together of the members of the same household. The production of these sounds seems to be a labor of much effort. The movements of the bird then, must be seen to be appreciated. The head and bill are bent forward until the latter comes into contact with the ground, and, just as the sound is being emitted, the body is urged violently forward. These spasmodic exertions being over, the actor in this drama, twitches its abbreviated, halfspread tail, assumes an erect attitude of listening, and, if no response is elicited, repeats its characteristic cry, with all the accompanying movements. If the call awakes an answering note, the happy lover flies to the presence of the one he seeks, and lavishes upon her the most endearing caresses. Sometimes, as Audubon affirms, the male awaits the arrival of the loved one, and does not fly to meet her. According to the same authority, the summons seems sometimes to be replied to by one of the same sex, which is always the prelude to a fierce encounter between the two, for, on these occasions, when the feelings are in a high state of tension, the utmost enmity exists between the males. These contentions are usually shortlived, and cease with the assumption of matrimonial relations.

The happiness of the male is now complete. With his homely, but, doubtless, to him, prepossessing bride, by his side, he soon journeys off in search of a home. This is a matter of some consequence, and tasks the patience to the utmost. But their labors in this direction are eventually crowned with success. They frequent the most secluded resorts, and hide their nest away in some low, dense and swampy woods or brake, difficult of access, and one that none but the cruel collector would be likely to visit. The nest is generally placed on the ground, at the foot of a bush or tussock, in the midst of small birches or alders, or on a decayed stump or prostrate log. In some localities it is snugly nestled in the midst of a meadow. It is not an elaborate affair by any means, but merely consists of a few dried leaves or grasses which are scratched together by the female—the work of a few hours at the most.

The domicile being ready for occupancy, the female soon commences to deposit her beautiful treasures. One by one they are laid on consecutive days, until her complement of three or four is reached. In the Southern States, oviposition commences in March or February, while in the northern limits of the range of this species, from the tenth to the fifteenth of April; seldom later. Incubation is mutual, and so attentive are the birds to the task, that it is an unusual occurrence to find them both absent therefrom at the same time. When the female is sitting, her partner improves the time by attending to the demands which hunger makes upon him. The same is true of the female when she has resigned her charge to the care of her noble and conscientious lord. So faithfully do they keep to the nest, that nothing but the most menacing danger will compel them to quit it. The approach of a team, or of a pedestrian, within a foot of it, has not been known to startle them. But when the danger is quite imminent, the sitting-bird slips out of it, and makes its way into the tall grasses, at some distance therefrom, and becomes a silent and sorrowful witness of the disaster to be accomplished. Should no destruction be perpetrated, and the intruder has gone his way, it cautiously comes out of its hiding-place, and resumes labors. But it has learned a lesson by this experience. For on a second visit to the same spot, no bird is to be found. Apprised of approaching danger, it has slipped out of the nest in time to escape detection. Thus patiently, persistently, and seemingly unweariedly, these faithful beings, by turns, apply themselves to the task, until success has crowned their willing labors. The time spent in hatching, under the most favorable circumstances, varies from seventeen to eighteen days.

The young are very timid creatures, and keep close to their parents, who manifest considerable solicitude for their well-being. They watch over their helpless infancy, so to speak, with a care which a human mother only knows, and when their lives are imperiled, resort to many a ruse to deceive their enemies, and bring them into places of safety. By a peculiar alarm, when severely pressed, the mother warns them of the condition of things, and while they are scattering in different directions, she seeks to attract attention to herself in many a well-feigned artifice. After the danger is past, by a familiar call she summons them together, and doubtless relates to them the story of her adventures, and the dangers to which they were exposed. Their food consists of worms, animalcula, ants and other soft-bodied insects, which the parents assist them in procuring from the soft earth, and beneath the grass and dead leaves that abound in the places which they frequent. Later on, they are able to obtain their subsistence with the address of older birds, by thrusting their bills into the soil, and in such other places as would be likely to contain the objects desired. Their tongues being covered with a viscid saliva, the food adheres thereto, and is drawn into the mouth without danger of being-lost. Gunners, as well as those who have made these birds a study, have often met with holes which have been made in the soft mud by their bills. The presence of these "borings," as they are called, is always considered as an indication that game is not very far distant, which a thorough exploration of the surrounding country soon reveals to be the fact. The young having thoroughly matured, continue in the same haunts with their parents, and, unless brought to an untimely death by the merciless gun of the hunter, repair to the warm, sunny, smiling South with the return of frost.

The eggs of this species are less pyriform than waders' mostly are, being, in some instances, almost ovoidal. Their ground-color varies from a light clay to one of buffy-brown, and the markings occur in the form of fine spots and blotches of chocolate-brown, interspersed with others of obscure lilac, scattered more or less thickly over the surface of the egg.

According to Dr. Coues, their size and intensity of color bear, in general, a direct correspondence with the depth of the background. In Massachusetts these eggs exhibit remarkable variation, passing from 1.45 to 1.80 inches in length, and from 1.15 to 1.25 in width. Out of a collection of a dozen specimens, Dr. Coues found the shortest and broadest egg to measure 1.40 by 1.20, and the longest, narrowest one, 1.55 by 1.15 inches. A set of three before us, from Pennsylvania, has an average measurement of 1.54 by 1.21 inches. In the Middle States, and the same is doubtless true of other sections of our great country, there is never more than a single brood raised, although the early breeding of the species would certainly give ample time for a second hatching before the close of the season. The drawing shows not merely the eggs in situ, although considerably reduced, but at the same time gives a beautiful and accurate figure of a typical specimen, alone and isolated. The female is represented as standing in the vicinity of the nest, while her partner occupies a sitting posture in the foreground of the picture. The total length of this species, from tip of bill to extremity of tail, is eleven inches. The wing has a stretch of two and a quarter inches. So well have the birds been portrayed by the artist, that we shall not attempt a description.