of mine found an almost pure white bobolink, happily mated and as full of 

 joyous song as though Nature had not mixed her colors in painting him. Robert 

 was white, barring a few black streaks on his breast. I made his acquaintance 

 a little later in the season, and found that he and his wife had a field all to 

 themselves. Across the road there were scores of bobolinks, but it was evident 

 that they had made an outcast of their brother because of his peculiar plumage. 

 It has been said that albino birds are not able to secure mates. If that be the 

 rule, this bobolink's case was an exception, for he had a wife who seemed to 

 find nothing wrong with the attire of her lord. I have often wished that I could 

 have seen the albino at the period when the bobolinks doflf their summer garb 

 and don the sober clothing of the fall. I wondered if after the molting Bob's 

 new crop of feathers might not have been normal. The speculation ran still 

 further, and I wondered if the coming of the next spring's season might not 

 find him in the regulation suit of yellow, white and black. 



There is an old stumpy pasture at the end of the Skokie road. With the 

 friend who had found the albino bobolink I was passing this pasture one day, 

 when a sparrow alarm-note quickly and sharply uttered attracted our attention. 

 My companion discovered the source of the alarm in a moment. A little gray 

 bird was perched on the top of a stump, and uttering the most dismal cries that 

 I think I ever heard come from a bird throat. Soon another bird joined it, and 

 for every cry that the first one uttered thef other went it one better, or, as I 

 thought it, one worse. Both birds took flight and came close to us, flying just 

 above our heads and keeping up their lamenting, for their tone was sorrow- 

 stricken if anything. When our surprise at the birds' actions had abated a 

 little we had sense enough to realize that we were dealing with strangers. The 

 birds were unquestionably sparrows, but of a kind neither of us had met before. 

 As they hovered over our heads they showed soft gray breasts with a single 

 jet-black spot in the center. The sides of the crown were chestnut, and the 

 tail feathers were tipped with white. While flying both birds spread their tails 

 like fans, and formed a striking picture. Finally they seemed to feel that they 

 had made much ado about nothing, and one of them took to a fence-post close 

 at hand. The other soon dropped to the ground at the foot of a stump within 

 ten feet of us, and there fed two young birds, which apparently had just emerged 

 from the shell. The birds were lark sparrows, and to my mind they are the 

 handsomest of the sparrow tribe. 



The day following the discovery of the nest I took some friends to see the 

 nestlings and their pretty parents. The mother bird was brooding the young 

 when we reached the place. I stood directly over her, one foot on either side 

 of the nest. She did not move, but she looked up at me with an eye bright with 

 fear. I sank to my knees. Mother love held her chained to the nest. I put my 

 hand down, and with my forefinger gently stroked her back. She stood it for 

 some seconds, and then scuttled away, seeking to lead me from her treasure by 

 pretending to be crippled. I felt guilty at bringing so much terror to that little 



287 



