Notes from Field and Study 



125 



his safety-valves of joy, sets us to vibrat- 

 ing in tune with his song. 



If one feels particularly companionable, 

 what delight there is in the blithesome 

 camaraderie of Red Crossbills, as they 

 cheerily and merrily assure each other 

 of good fellowship while traveling along 

 through their airy roads among the tops 

 of the pointed firs, in a spirit that belongs 

 to no lower levels. 



The day's work is done. Evening calm 

 settles over forest and field. Hear the 

 White-throated Sparrows say to each 

 other that peace reigns in the village and 

 all is well until the morrow. Then comes 

 the spiritual rhapsody of the Hermit 

 Thrush, in the harmony that inspires one 

 who, far from the crowd, is all alone with 

 his better self. 



Among all bird songs appropriate to 

 the environment, what can be more de- 

 lightful than the song of the Woodcock ? 

 It is the song of the tenderest of lovers, 

 and it strikes the very note that poets have 

 sought in their ideals of love in a cottage, 

 or of a secluded spot in some far wilder- 

 ness. The song of the Woodcock is the 

 dearest song in the world. Would that 

 some one might sing to me such a lullaby. 

 All is quiet in the valley. Moonlight is 

 transmuting spring mist into gold. The 

 jingle of silver bells of the Hyla chorus 

 sounds faintly from the distant marsh. 

 Then it is that the Woodcock looks at his 

 beautiful bride upon the nest among warm, 

 loose leaves, and, springing aloft with 

 twittering wing, stills the wing note, and 

 warbles so softly and sweetly to his true 

 love that it seems almost sacrilege to 

 listen. It is not to the multitude that he 

 sings. Oh, no indeed! "It is just for you 

 and me, Betty. Not for the world would 

 we disturb any one with our affection, but 

 we love each other, and our happiness is 

 complete." 



I wish the Woodcock would not give 

 his absurd little bleat before springing on 

 wing for his song, but it is only a manner- 

 ism, and we have to allow all sorts of 

 mannerisms in our friends, because Lord 

 knows how many we have ourselves. — 

 Robert T. Morris, New York City. 



Observations on the Life History of the 

 Bobolink 



Early in the afternoon of June 16, 1908, 

 I was going through a hay field near 

 Woodmont, Conn., in search of a Meadow- 

 lark's nest. The field was about three 

 acres in extent, bordered on three sides 

 by roads, and on the fourth by a fresh 

 marsh. The grass was about eighteen 

 inches high, and ready to be cut. 



In the course of the search, three Bobo- 

 links — a male and two females — were 

 seen. When I reached a certain spot in the 

 field, it was evident from the action of 

 one of the females, who carried a grub in 

 her bill, that I was in the immediate 

 vicinity of the nest. 



I sat down and awaited developments. 

 The female nearest me continued t6 fly 

 about, alighting often on the tops of dock 

 stalks standing above the general level of 

 the grass. Meanwhile, female No. 2 was 

 flying about some distance oft", also with 

 grubs in her bill. The male consorted 

 with both; now caressing (or chasing) one, 

 now the other. He manifested much 

 alarm over my presence when with the 

 female nearest me. 



After some twenty minutes' delay, 

 female No. i dropped into the grass 

 within a dozen feet of me. I could hear 

 the buzz of the young as she fed them. 

 After a few minutes' careful search on 

 hands and knees, the nest was found. 

 It contained five young, about half-grown. 

 The nest itself did not amount to much, 

 being nothing but a depression in the 

 ground, lined with grasses. 



About this time the male disappeared, 

 and did not figure in subsequent proceed- 

 ings that day. After locating the first 

 nest so as to be able to find it again, I 

 retired to the top of a rail-fence across 

 the road, hoping to find the second nest. 

 Long before female No. 2 flew to her nest, 

 female No. i was feeding her young at 

 nearly regular five-minute intervals. Fe- 

 male No. 2 was very shy, and it took over 

 an hour to find her nest. She would fly 

 into the grass at various points and appar- 

 ently walk to the nest. At length I found 



