ong journeys over land and sea. Save in exceptional
years, England is not visited by quail in sufficient numbers to lend
interest to this aspect of a bird attractive on other grounds, but the
coincidence of their arrival with us is well established.

The voice of the corncrake, easily distinguished from that of any other
bird of our fields, may be approximately reproduced by using a blunt saw
against the grain on hard wood. So loud is it at times that I have heard
it from the open window of an express train, the noise of which drowned
all other birdsong, and it seems remarkable that such a volume of sound
should come from a throat so slender. Yet the rasping note is welcome
during the early days of its arrival, since, just as the cuckoo gave
earlier message of spring, so the corncrake, in sadder vein, heralds the
ripeness of our briefer summer.

The East Anglian name "dakker-hen" comes from an old word descriptive of
the bird's halting flight; and indeed to see a landrail drop, as already
mentioned, after flying a few yards, makes one incredulous when tracing
its long voyages on the map. In the first place, however, it should be
remembered that the bird does not drop back in the grass because it is
tired, but solely because it knows the way to safety by running out of
sight. In the second, the apparent weakness of its wings is not real.
Quails have little round wings that look ill adapted to long journeys. I
have been struck by this times and again when shooting quail in Egypt
and Morocco, yet of the quail's fitness for travel there has never,
since Bible days, been any question.

The landrail is an excellent table bird. Personally I prefer it to the
partridge, but this is perhaps praising it too highly. Legally of
course it is "game," as a game licence must be held by anyone who shoots
it; and, though protected in this country only under the Wild Birds Act,
Irish law extends this by a month, so that it may not be shot in that
country after the last day of January. Like most migratory birds, its
numbers vary locally in different seasons, and its scarcity in
Hampshire, to which White makes reference, has by no means been
maintained of recent years, as large bags have been recorded in every
part of that county.

The common partridge is--at any rate for the naturalist--a less
interesting subject than its red-legged cousin, which seems to have been
first introduced from France (or possibly from the island of Guernsey,
w