Field marks.—The greater yellow-legs resembles the lesser so closely in color pattern that the two can not be readily distinguished except by direct comparison in size. The bill of the greater is relatively larger, and it is rather more boldly marked. The voices of the two are somewhat different. Other characters are referred to under the next species.
Fall.—Adults move off their breeding grounds at an early date and loiter along in a leisurely manner. The first migrants appear in the northern states in July, sometimes as early as the second or even the first week. Young birds come later; there is usually a heavy flight of them during the first half of October, and many linger in Massachusetts until the middle of November or later. Mr. Brewster (1925) says of the migration at Umbagog Lake, Maine:
"We often saw them arriving and departing by day, usually in the early morning or late afternoon if the weather were fine, at almost any time if it were stormy. When seen approaching from farther north, they were commonly first sighted so high in the air that they looked no bigger than swallows. After circling twice or thrice over the lake on set wings, whistling loudly and volubly, they were likely to pitch headlong into the marshes to feed and rest there during the remainder of the day, if not for a considerably longer period, provided no gunner happened to fare that way. Some, however, kept straight on without stopping and perhaps without lowering their line of flight below the level of the mountain tops to the southward over which they were accustomed to pass."
Mr. Whitaker tells me that the last of the yellow-shanks move out of Newfoundland about the end of October; these are probably all young birds. And Edward S. Thomas sends me a record for Columbus, Ohio, of December 11, 1925. This bird well deserves the name of "winter yellow-legs."
Probably many migrate at sea, from Nova Scotia to the West Indies, for Capt. Savile G. Reid (1884) says that it is "more or less common" in Bermuda, "arriving early in August and remaining for a month or so," where it is "much in request among the energetic sportsmen."
Game.—The greater yellow-legs is a fine game bird; I can not say as much for the lesser yellow-legs. Large numbers have been shot in past years. Prof. Wells W. Cooke (1912) says: "A hunter near Newport, Rhode Island, shot 1,362 greater yellow-legs in the eight seasons, 1867-1874; his highest score, 419 birds, was in 1873, from August 19 to October 19." Dr. Charles W. Townsend (1905) reports that "463 greater yellow-legs were sent from Newburyport and vicinity on one day, October 11, 1904, to a single stall in Boston market." I knew an old gunner who celebrated his eightieth birthday a few years ago by shooting 40 yellow-legs.
It is a pity that the delightful sport of bay-bird shooting, which was such a pleasant feature of our earlier shooting days, had to be gradually restricted. Hudsonian curlew, and black-bellied and golden plover and greater yellow-legs were all fine game birds. I could see no reason for cutting out the curlew, as it is well able to take care of itself; golden plover were sadly depleted in numbers and black-bellied plover and both yellow-legs were decreasing; perhaps it was wise to eliminate them all.
Those were glorious days that we used to spend on the marshes of Cape Cod. On the inner, or bay, side of Monomoy are extensive marshes, meadows, sand flats, and mud flats, 9 miles in length and nearly a mile wide in places at low tide. These were great feeding resorts for hosts of shore birds; and in the good old days, when there were shore birds to shoot and when we were allowed to shoot them, blinds were scattered all along the marshes and flats. On a dry sand spit or beach a hole was dug in the sand and seaweed was piled up around it high enough to conceal a sitting gunner; on a wet marsh a substantial blind was built of brush, with a seat in it for two men; in some places in the meadows, where the grass grew high, a box or a board to sit on was all the gunner needed. Wooden or tin decoys painted to imitate yellow-legs or plover were set up in the sand or mud, all facing the wind and within easy range. Here in a comfortable blind the hunter could lounge at ease, bask in the genial sun of early autumn, smoke his pipe and meditate, or watch the many interesting things about him, the rich autumn colors of the marsh vegetation, the ever-changing picture of sky and sea, the black terns and the swallows winnowing the meadows, the gulls and the terns over the sea and the flocks of small waders running over the mud flats. Suddenly he is awakened from his reveries by the well-known note of the winter yellow-legs and discerns a mere speck in the distant sky; he whistles an imitation of its note; the bird answers him and, looking for companionship, circles nearer; by judicious calling the bird is attracted within sight of the decoys and, after several cautious circlings, it sets its wings and scales down to the decoys, where it meets its fate. Perhaps a whole flock may slip in unexpectedly, wheel over the decoys and hurry away, giving the gunner only a hurried chance for a quick shot. Perhaps a curlew may fly over or a flock of beetle-heads fly swiftly by; the gunner must be ready for all such chances. There is an ever-changing panorama of bird life on the marshes, full of surprises and delights for the nature lover.
Winter.—The greater yellow-legs has a wide winter range, from the southern United States, where it is comparatively rare, to southern South America, where most of the birds seem to go. W. H. Hudson (1920) says: