28 



THE OOLOGIST. 



to catch the more exquisite notes. 

 These finer tones will compare favora- 

 bly (in point of excellence) with the liq- 

 uid notes of our melodious Bobolink. 



The song proper, like all other bird 

 melodies is difficult of description and 

 must be heard to be fully appreciated. 

 The male sings while perched on a clod 

 or fence post or while on the wing. His 

 flying song however, is a liner produc- 

 tion and of much longer duration. 



On a fine April morning of last sea- 

 son, I was treated to a mid-air rendition 

 from Praticola that surely would rival 

 the best production of the far-famed 

 English Skylark. 



I was first attracted by an unusually 

 animated song which seemed directly 

 above me. I soon discovered a Horned 

 Lark, with rapidly vibrating wings, cir- 

 cling round and round, over a freshly 

 plowed field. He seemed wholly car- 

 ried away with power of his song as he 

 mounted higher and higher, until he 

 passed beyond my vision. I could still 

 hear him as the climax w'as reached, 

 when with almost a scream of ecstacy 

 he fi uttered back to earth, "sliding 

 down on the scale of his own music." 

 He dropped to the surface utterly spent 

 by his violent exertions and the inter- 

 esting performance was over. I wend- 

 ed my way homeward with an increas- 

 ed admiration for the accomplishments 

 af this terestial songster. 



The Frairie Horned Lark is a con- 

 stant resident with us and while seem- 

 ingly not so common in the mid-winter 

 months, I do not believe that any por- 

 tion of them leave us (as some writers 

 contend) during that time. On very 

 cold days, they leave the pasture-lands 

 and meadows and seek shelter in the 

 corn-fields, where they are found with 

 difficulty. This propably accounts for 

 their apparent disappearance. 



Inhabitant of field and meadow, it 

 adds a pleasing picture to our dreary 

 winter landscape that could not well be 

 spared. 



On a typical winter Sabbath in Feb- 

 ruary, I am coaxed out of my winter 

 quarters in the hopes of meeting some 

 early arrival from the south. I am pre- 

 pared to welcome an old Crow, if noth- 

 ing more interesting appears. 



Suddenly I meet a shower of Horned 

 Larks, rolling and bounding through 

 the air in Goldfinch-like curves. They 

 all alight but one male— he leaving his 

 companions, mounts into the air. 

 Higher and higher he goes with each 

 bound, and describing an extensive cir- 

 cle, reaches a great altitude. When a 

 mere speck in the sky, his ambition 

 seems satisfied and closing his wings, he 

 drops like a meteor to the earth. It is 

 a pretty and interesting performance. 



Even at this early date, I feel sure 

 they are mated, for they appear to di- 

 vide in pairs and the notes of the male 

 have assumed a more lover-like tone 

 than the monotonous "jjreet p/'eet" of a 

 month previous. 



They are our earliest nest-builders — 

 so early indeed that the female if often 

 compelled to finish her task of incuba- 

 tion amid the ice and snow of a late 

 winter storm. 



Two or three broods are reared each 

 season. I have evidence of only two, 

 but as the first brood is hatched in 

 March and the second in June, a third 

 brood for the season is very probable. 



The nests are always placed on the 

 ground, sunken in the earth or placed 

 at the roots of corn. The first nests are 

 usually built in meadows and pastures 

 where a natural depression or cow-track 

 is chosen. They are composed of fine 

 dry grasses and feathers, firmly inter- 

 woven into a strongly made nest, able 

 to withstand the fury of heavy March 

 winds. 



In marked contrast are the nests fur- 

 nished for the second broods. These 

 are placed at the roots of growing corn 

 in early June and are but small masses 

 of weeds and grasses, so carelessly 



