Partridge drumming was another great marvel. When I first heard the
low, soft, solemn sound I thought it must be made by some strange
disturbance in my head or stomach, but as all seemed serene within, I
asked David whether he heard anything queer. "Yes," he said, "I hear
something saying _boomp_, _boomp_, _boomp_, and I'm wondering at it."
Then I was half satisfied that the source of the mysterious sound must
be in something outside of us, coming perhaps from the ground or from
some ghost or bogie or woodland fairy. Only after long watching and
listening did we at last discover it in the wings of the plump brown
bird.
The love-song of the common jack snipe seemed not a whit less
mysterious than partridge drumming. It was usually heard on cloudy
evenings, a strange, unearthly, winnowing, spiritlike sound, yet
easily heard at a distance of a third of a mile. Our sharp eyes soon
detected the bird while making it, as it circled high in the air over
the meadow with wonderfully strong and rapid wing-beats, suddenly
descending and rising, again and again, in deep, wide loops; the tones
being very low and smooth at the beginning of the descent, rapidly
increasing to a curious little whirling storm-roar at the bottom, and
gradually fading lower and lower until the top was reached.
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