BIRDS OF THE FIELD 265 



with reproachful cries. Still, when the egg is laid 

 they make no effort to rid themselves of it, and 

 when it is hatched they permit their own offspring 

 to perish, and devote themselves to the upbringing 

 of their monstrous charge with a fidelity which 

 certainly seems worthy of a better cause. 



Although in times gone by the Tree Pipit was 

 constantly confused with the Meadow Pipit, even 

 by observers so scrupulous as Gilbert White, the 

 difference in the haunts and habits, as well as in the 

 appearance, of the two birds is none the less clearly 

 marked. In the first place, the Tree Pipit is larger, 

 is buffer in hue, and the breast spots are larger and 

 fewer in number. The Tree Pipit is less truly a 

 bird of the fields than is the Meadow Pipit, although 

 it, too, shuns the deeper recesses of the woods. Its 

 home, indeed, is usually in the higher trees which 

 stand, isolated or in groups, in meadows or park- 

 lands. Here in the earlv summer it may be seen, 

 perched upon a single dead branch which stands 

 out starkly against the sky above the dark-green 

 foliage of some giant oak. Soon it flies into the 

 air, singing loudly, but instead of ascending sky- 

 lark-wise in easy spirals, it presses straight upwards 

 as though it would reach the clouds in a single 

 burst. It has none of the glorious persistence of 

 the true sky bird, however, and soon, with rigid 

 wing and downstretched feet, it sinks back, describ- 

 ing a half circle in its descent, and, still singing, it 

 alights again often on the exact spot it so lately left. 



It repeats this movement many times, and after a 

 fall of rain several may be observed within a limited 



