ground in meadows or cultivated fields, it is well and carefully made of corn 

 husks, grasses and horse hair, but as the weather warms less care is used in 

 construction. The eggs, from three to five in number, are olive, buff streaked 

 and spotted with drab and lavender, 



A most interesting habit of the horned lark is its notable preference for 

 bare ground. Twenty-nine per cent of all the birds seen in plowed fields dur- 

 ing our year's statistical work on Illinois birds consisted of this one species. 

 Its next decided preference was for pastures and fields of stubble. As would 

 naturally be supposed, the food of this bird differs with the changing seasons. 

 From an almost entirely vegetable diet in winter it gradually changes to a 

 midsummer diet about equally divided between insects and seeds. Taking the 

 year together, something more than a fifth of the food has been found to con- 

 sist of insects, about an eighth of it of grain, and the remainder of seeds of 

 weeds. Practically all the corn and oats eaten was waste, as the bird feeds 

 only on the ground. 



There can be no doubt that this lark is, on the whole, much more helpful 

 to the farmer than injurious — a fact of some importance since it remains with 

 us throughout the year and is among the more abundant of our farm birds. 



Mr. Audubon says : "The male soars into the air, sings with cheerfulness 

 over the resort of his mate, and roosts beside her and his nest on the ground, 

 having at this season a very remarkable appearance in the development of 

 the black and horn-like egrets." Mr. Langille gives an interesting account of 

 the male's song habits. "Hearing its song, now quite familiar to me, I strolled 

 warily through the open field, hoping to find its nest. But whence came the 

 song? It was as puzzling as the voice of a ventriloquist. Now it seemed on 

 the right, and now on the left, and now in some other direction. Presently I 

 caught the way of the sound, and lo ! its author was soaring high in the air, 

 moving in short curves up, up, singing for a few moments as it sailed with ex- 

 panded wings before each flitting curve upward, till it became a mere speck 

 in the zenith, and finally I could scarcely tell whether I saw it or not. But 

 I still heard the song, one that never can be mistaken, so unlike is it to that of 

 any other bird." Finally the bird started to descend and Mr. Langille says: 

 "Down, down it comes, meteor-like, with wings almost closed, until one fears 

 it will dash out its life on the earth. But no, it alights in safety, and steps 

 along with all its wonted stateliness." 



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