In Southern Hoosier Hills 45 



I have known the meadowlark since boyhood, but never 

 before had been so near the living bird, except on the rare occa- 

 sions when I had flushed it from its nest with my trespassing 

 footsteps. A little farther on we found a flock of gold- 

 finches. As doubtless every one knows, the male goldfinch 

 changes his resplendent coat of yellow and black for one of 

 dun in the fall of the year. He takes off this habit some 

 time in the spring, and puts on his summer livery once more. 

 Three of the goldfinches we saw on that March morning 

 were in the transition stage. With them, undressing and 

 dressing must be the matter of a month or so. Familiar as 

 my companion and I were with the goldfinch in both his hot 

 and cold weather attire, neither of us had ever before seen 

 him while he was changing his clothes. As a matter of fact, 

 I did not recognize the bird until the little flock took wing 

 and began the familiar weaving flight across the field. I have 

 seen the goldfinch in northern Illinois as late as April 1st still 

 wearing his full winter costume. 



As my friend the doctor and I were bound for a sugar- 

 camp, which was supposed to lie at the left of the road we 

 were traveling, the time was approaching when we should 

 have to leave the wagon and take to the fields. In the few 

 minutes which passed before parting with our boy driver he 

 took occasion to tell us that he had liked birds and flowers 

 ever since he could remember. Then he named a number 

 of his favorites. That boy had a keen insight, and knew 

 Nature thoroughly and sympathetically. When we said 

 good by, I casually asked his name. 



"Love," he said. 



Surely there is something in a name after all. 



My companion and I trudged our way over the hills 



