Galinago delicata. Lake Umbagog, Maine. 1394. I listened in vain for any other of the sounds of spring Sept. 21. until presently a Snipe drummed directly overhead. Soon after- ward I heard another and then another, until at one time they were drumming on every side and almost incessantly. The marsh- es were evidently alive with them to-night, for besides the drumming birds I saw dozens of others, cutting to and fro against the faint light in the western sky. As they shot down to their feeding grounds, their wings made a rushing sound so exactly like that of Duck's wings, that I was constantly de- ceived. When they merely flitted from one mud bank to the next, their wings rustled loudly. They used only the scaipe cry when flying, but the feeding birds kept up a constant call- ing to one another, making a low but penetrating kup, kr-r-uck, very like the call of the Florida Gallinule. I think that I have identified this cry before, but it puzzled me, at first, this evening. As a rule only two birds were calling at one time, one appearing to answer the other. The call was varied a good deal in both form and tone. At times it was not unlike the kep of a Carolina Rail, but there can be no doubt that the Snipe were the authors of the sound. These Snipe were feeding on small isolated lumps and hummocks of mud which were sur- rounded by water six to eight inches in depth. They came to- this place from every direction and some of them evidently from long distances.