(1) The yodle probably corresponds in significance with that of the greater yellow-legs—location. It is certainly its homolog and scarcely, if at all, distinguishable from it. When a flock of a half dozen lesser yellow-legs came to decoys, one bird alighted first, had a low-pitched, unfamiliar too-dle-hoo-hoo, too-dle-hoo-hoo, too-dle-hoo-hoo, before the others, still on the wing, came back and alighted with it. Though probably of similar derivation, this note was quite different from the yodle of the species, and is probably more of a gather call (Long Island, August).
(2) The wheu is a regular flight note, likely advertisement. Generally silent birds alighted, sometimes call an occasional single wheu (at such times particularly soft and mellow) before others drop in to join them, as if in welcome.
When double this note of the lesser yellow-legs is at times clear and full, difficult to differentiate from that of the larger species, and apparently likewise characteristic of a "gentle" bird, which will join decoys or others alighted.
(5) Whereas the wheu note of the lesser yellow-legs is most frequently single and very seldom more than double, I have heard a variation of it in series from one of an alighted flock (Mastic, July 13, 1919), hyu-hyu-hyu-hyu-hyu, etc. Presumably this was in protest at my presence, corresponding to the similar note of the larger species.
(6) Soft, unloud murmuring of a flock in chorus, yu yu yu, etc., characteristically heard, as on August 10, 1919, from a flock moving leisurely over the meadows, after having been flushed, to shortly alight again, expressive of companionship and confidence.
(7) When dropping down to alight, often hovering over decoys, a flock of lesser yellow-legs has soft short cup, cup, cup, etc., notes.
(8) At the instant of flushing almost the identical notes as above given hurriedly with more emphasis. This for the lesser yellow-legs is a rough analog of the cheeping note of the pectoral sandpiper, but in view of the different habits of the two species, can not be said to be strictly analogous with same.
(10) An unloud chuckle or series of short notes suggesting a very distant jack curlew, heard sometimes, not very frequently, when one or more birds take wing. Should probably be considered a flushing note or signal to take wing. Seems like the attempt of one individual to reproduce the preceding, which is often from several birds of a flock.
(11) The kip is likely one bird calling to another close-by. It is typically a flocking note, otherwise used almost exactly as is note No. 2. A variation, keup, with broader sound, approaching the wheu, expressing attention, is frequent. It has been heard from a flock of birds which had been resting and bathing, just before taking wing (Mastic, September 15, 1918).
(12) An infrequent note of quite different character from the lesser yellow-legs' ordinary calls is very high and clear, queep. It is subject to much variation, as peep-quip, eep! but is characterized by the high ee sound. It has been heard from birds alighted, more particularly when their companions, alarmed or for some other reason, move on, and is thought of as the tarrying individual's note. On August 17, 1919, I had picked up decoys preparatory to leaving a pool in the meadows when a single lesser yellow-legs came down to the pool calling a similar kee-a on the wing, though I was in full view. It went on without alighting with wheu notes characteristic of the species. Probably this was an individual which wanted to stay, from a small company which had left the meadow.
(13) Wounded birds, on being pursued and captured, have a harsh scream of fear, chee-rp. I have noticed this from birds of the year in southward migration only, not from adults under the same circumstances.
The above numbers indicate notes analogous with those of the greater yellow-legs, similarly numbered. Where the lesser has no notes analogous with certain notes of the greater, these numbers are omitted.
Field marks.—There is no conspicuous character, except size, by which the lesser yellow-legs can be distinguished in life from the greater, unless one is expert enough to recognize the notes, which are varied and variable in both species. From nearly all other species it can be distinguished by its slender, shapely head and neck and by its long, conspicuously yellow legs. Its light, almost white, tail and rump contrast conspicuously with its uniformly dark back and wings; adults in worn nuptial plumage appear almost black on the upper parts; and there is no conspicuous white mark in the wings. The lesser yellow-legs is most likely to be confused with the long-legged stilt sandpiper in immature plumage; but the latter is somewhat smaller and has olive-colored legs instead of yellow. Adult stilt sandpipers, before they have entirely lost the barred under parts, can be recognized by these marks and by other characters described under that species.
Fall.—Adult summer yellow-legs in worn nuptial plumage reach New England in July, thus deserving the name. My earliest date is July 11, but they are often abundant before the end of that month. The young birds appear about a month later; the loose flocks are made up of both ages in August; the adults usually depart before the end of August, and few young birds are left after the middle of September.
Mr. Nichols says in his notes:
It has frequently been remarked by old shore-bird gunners on Long Island that the lesser yellow-legs and other species of shore birds in southward migration are abundant early in the season, and then after a period of comparative scarcity become again more numerous. The explanation most commonly advanced for this condition is two flights, first the old, then the young birds. It is unquestionable that the first birds to come south are adults, but beyond that fact this hypothesis will not hold.
The fluctuation in numbers of the shore birds on Long Island during the fall migration period may best be explained by supposing that the bulk of each species has a more or less definite late-summer range to which it travels from the breeding grounds and where, if conditions are favorable, it remains until autumn. Before the main flight, birds of each species are mostly adults, during it, mixed adults and young. To explain double abundance of most species in southward migration by first the passage of adults, then that of young, is pretty surely erroneous. Where such double abundance does occur it is probably first birds passing through, second birds stopping to feed.
There are not infrequent records of southbound lesser yellow-legs on Long Island the end of June (June 24, 1922, my earliest at Mastic), and I have seen a flock of 40 or 50 by July 10; July 31 is the earliest mention I chance to find in my notes of a bird of the year.
There is probably a considerable and regular migration at sea for Capt. Savile G. Reid (1884) says that in Bermuda this is "the most conspicuous and noisy of the August arrivals. It has been seen as early as July 13, but usually disappears toward the end of September. Considerable numbers fall victims to the gun, as they are not bad eating."
C. J. Pennock has noted it in Delaware as late as October 12, and has seen it in Florida as early as September 16. It is an abundant migrant in the interior. Edward S. Thomas tells me that in Ohio the average fall migration dates are between August 3 and October 16; he has a very late record of a specimen collected on November 29, 1923. From the prairie Provinces of Canada the main flight departs in August, but A. G. Lawrence gives me September 29, 1923, as his latest date.
J. A. Munro tells me that it is "an abundant autumn migrant" at Okanagan Landing, British Columbia; his dates run from July 9 to September 1. This species seems to be a rare migrant on the coasts of Washington and California.
Game.—The summer yellow-legs has always been a popular game bird and has always been counted in the class of "big birds." It is still fairly abundant, but occurs in nothing like its former numbers. Giraud (1844) was informed by a noted gunner "that he killed 106 yellow-shanks by discharging both barrels of his gun into a flock while they were sitting along the beach." No such flocks occur to-day. However, they are not all gone, for Stuart T. Danforth (1925) says that at Cartagena Lagoon, Porto Rico,