Page:The Zoologist, 4th series, vol 4 (1900).djvu/508

474 Do not now think that what I heard was the Great Plover. Believe they are all gone.

October 31st.—(Fine bright day. Sky almost cloudless.)

5.10 p.m.—On road by moor again; same place.

Saw no Great Plovers flying, neither had I seen any whilst walking up, nor did I when returning (though it would have been too dark to, unless they had come very near). I, however, again heard several times distinctly that note which, on previous evenings lately, I had thought might proceed from these birds. Whether it does or not I cannot feel sure. It is merely a short single note, but in tone and character resembling, or at least recalling, the Great Plover's. It may possibly be a less usually heard note of a Pheasant or Partridge. If not, then (unless to the Great Plover) I do not know to what bird to attribute it. But, as for nearly a week now I have seen none of these birds flying, nor put any up whilst walking over their former assembly-grounds, I think they must be all gone.

November 1st.—At 5 p.m. I was at the bank, and walked all about that part of the moor near it where the Great Plovers had been wont to assemble. It was quite deserted. I did not put a bird up or hear the cry of one. Daylight was only just ceasing, and I should have seen any bird that I had disturbed.

The Great Plovers have regular places of assembly, where they sit or stand during the day in more or less close proximity to one another.

They prefer a place with some cover to one quite bare. As evening falls they indulge in curious and excited motions, which may be called dances, or dance-antics. These are accompanied with their wild wailing note, which is of a peculiar character. It ends in a wail, but there is a prelude—often a long one—which begins with some high-pitched plaintive cries, and then passes