NEOCORYS SPRAGUEI, SKYLARK. 43 



along the forty-uinth parallel of latitude, from just west of the Pembina 

 Mountains to as far as the survey progressed this year — about four hun- 

 dred miles ; I had no difiiculty in taking as many specimens as I desired. 

 They were particularly numerous at various points along the Souris or 

 Mouse Eiver, where, during our marches or while we were encamped, 

 they were almost continually hovering about us. The first one that I 

 shot, early in July, was a young of the year, but full grown ; and as I 

 found nestlings a month later, probably two broods are reared each sea- 

 son. The ordinary straightforward liight of the bird is performed with 

 a regular rising and falling, like that of the Titlark; but its course, 

 when startled from the ground, is exceedingly rapid and wayward ; at 

 such times, after the first alarm, they are wont to hover around in a de- 

 sultory manner for a considerable time, and then pitch suddenly down 

 to the ground, often near where they rose. Under these circumstances 

 they have a lisping, querulous note. But these common traits have 

 nothing to do with the wonderful soaring action, and the inimitable, 

 matchless song of the birds during the breeding season — it is no wonder 

 Audubon grew enthusiastic in describing it. Kising from the nest, or 

 from its grassj^ bed, this plain-looking little bird, clad in the simplest 

 colors, and making but a speck in the boundless expanse, mounts straight 

 up, on tremulous wings, till lost to view in the blue ether, and then sends 

 back to earth a song of gladness that seems to come from the sky itself, 

 to cheer the weary, give hope to the disheartened, and turn the most in- 

 different, for the moment at least, from sordid thoughts. No other bird- 

 music heard in our land compares with the wonderful strains of this 

 songster ; there is something not of earth in the melody, coming from 

 above, yet from no visible source. The notes are simply indescribable; 

 but once heard they can never be forgotten. Their volume and penetra- 

 tion are truly wonderful ; they are neither loud nor strong, yet the whole 

 air seems filled with the tender strains, and delightful melody continues 

 long unbroken. The song is only heard for a brief period in the sum- 

 mer, ceasing when the inspiration of the love season is over, and it is 

 only uttered when the birds are soaring. 



It is not a little singular that the Skylark should have so long contin- 

 ued to be rare in collections, since it is very abundant in the exten- 

 sive region which it inhabits. In August, after all the broods are on 

 wing, and through September, I have seen it in considerable iiocks ; and 

 often, when riding along the prairie road, numbers would fly up on my 

 approach, from the ruts ahead, where they were feeding, to settle again 

 at a little distance further on. These wheel-tracks, where the grass was 

 worn away, seemed to be their favorite resorts, where they could run 

 with the greatest ease, and perhaps gather food less easily discovered 

 in the thick grass. They tripped along the tracks with swift and dainty 

 steps, never hopping, and continually vibrated the tail. Just like our 

 common Titlark. They were usually associated at such times with num- 

 bers of Chestnut-colored Lark-buntings, which seemed to fancy the same 

 places, and with a few of Bairil's Buntings. These were the only circum- 

 stances under which the Larks could be procured without the great 

 quickness and dexterity required to take them on the wing; for the mo- 

 ment they alight in the grass of the prairie, be it scanty or oidy a few 

 inches high, they are lost to view, their speckled-gray colors blending 

 completely with the herbage. 



Ou n)akiug a camp at Turtle Mountain, a pair of Larks rose from the 

 si)ot where my tent was to Ix' jjitehed, and cireled about in such evident 

 aiul painful agitation, that 1 knew they had a nest somewhere near by. 

 1 ^Yatciled them for a long while, but they would not re-alight to give 



