28 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



IN THE MEADOW. 



In a small quiet meadow at the back of a certain farm a pair of 

 Meadow Larks, last summer, chose to make their home and rear their 

 young. 



A small stream, whose source was a spring in a neighboring field, 

 ran lazily through the meadow. A few cows lived here feeding on the 

 rank grass in the early morning and late evening and lolling in the 

 shade of the trees or standing listlessly in the stream, during the heat 

 of the day. Such was the scene that was to greet the eyes of the little 

 Larks when they were old enough to sail above the grassy wilderness 

 in which they found themselves when first they opened their eyes. 



The nest Vk^as incidentally discovered May 18th, at which time it 

 contained four helpless little Larks that looked as if they had just 

 made their exit from the shell. I visited them freciuently during the 

 course of the next few days and noted with pleasure their rapid growth 

 and how thrifty they looked. But on May 27th. when I went to see 

 them it was a sad sight that met my eyes. After searching several 

 minutes for the nest I was shocked to find in it's stead a cow track in 

 the bottom of which there was a bloody mass of flesh and feathers. A 

 sad fate for such a promising family. 



I wasn't in this meadow again for nearly two weeks and then, 

 knowing that birds are not easily discouraged even by such misfortunes 

 as above, I concluded they would be well under way towards raising 

 another brood, consequently the afternoon of June 9th, found me 

 making my way down the lane to the meadow gate. When I reached 

 it, having absorbed just about as much sunheat as I care to stand at 

 one time, I stopped a few moments to cool off. A Dickcissel sitting 

 on a fencepost bravely chirped away as if in open defiance to the sun. 



From a weed thicket came the clear notes of the Maryland Yellow- 

 throat while from somevv-here in the distance came the ditty of the 

 Indigo Bunting. But not a sight or sound did I get of the Meadow 

 Larks- "Perhaps they are enjoying their siesta," was my thought and 

 I turned towards a shade tree that grew on the banks of the stream 

 intendfng to follow their example. As I neared the tree a Red-winged 

 Blackbird which had been concealed in the foliage, darted out at me 

 and hovered above my head uttering a loud "Chee-oo-o." His spouse 

 hopped nervously about in the tree protesting my approach. In their 

 efforts to protect their nest they only served to betray it's presence, 

 for until I saw them I hadn't the least idea there was a Red-wing's 

 nest in the meadow. In a clump of dogwood sprouts growing almost 

 in the water and appearing as if thep all sprung from one root I found 



