16 The Wilson Bulletin.— No. 42. 



fields changed into one great mire by a recent cloudburst, I 

 saw swarm after swarm alighting, running swiftly over the 

 mud and in a (ew minutes it was impossible to tell where 

 they were, till a shot was fired, when thousands rose into 

 the air. Generally during wet and cloudy weather they hide 

 in the heath, in the vicinity of ponds and, frightened, circle 

 around you in short, graceful curves, till they suddenly drop 

 down to their old hiding place. Rarely do they alight on 

 trees, their long hind claw hindering their standing securely. 



Contrary to this the Tree Pipit is the bird of the forests. 

 Scarcely to be distinguished from the Meadow Pipit in gen- 

 eral appearance, he clings to the trees. As the former he 

 migrates in great numbers and during the first fevv days 

 after his arrival in April we only hear his call notes "yick, 

 yick." But soon we can hear them everywhere in the woods 

 long before we stand under the murmuring pines. From a 

 tall, majestic tree in the midst of a clearing, he rises straight 

 up into the air, now descending with half opened wings to a 

 smaller tree, again to rise and float towards heaven, now 

 getting his reward from his joyful spouse. Again resuming 

 his mating song, he runs across a rival. The battle is inevit- 

 able. With ruffled plumage and angry shrieks they scuffle on 

 a long slender bough, till the "new-comer" is beaten and our 

 champion once more occupies his favorite pine. His song is 

 superior to that of the Meadow Pipit; more powerful, more 

 rounded and melodious it greets us ever in spring time from 

 the woods. He is al\va}^s hopping and singing about, has 

 no time for nest building and but little for feeding — a useful 

 songster and a jovial messenger of the forest. His nest is 

 placed anywhere and similar to that of the Meadow Pipit. 

 He is equally anxious about his young and in fall often unites 

 with other Pipits, and when nature begins to die off, with the 

 last rustling leaves of the golden tinted fall he leaves us too. 



Humbler in dress than both of his relatives, the Fallow 

 Pipit is the bird of the potato fields, sterile wastes, stony 

 hillsides and barren fallows. The Fallow Pipit is a very shy, 

 retiring and restless bird, jerking his tail up and down, but 



