BOBOLINK. 29 
is on the grass, as black as may be. In the fall 
when flying into dangers that necessitate an in- 
conspicuous suit, the bobolink makes amends for 
the confusion caused in the spring, by adopting 
the uniform ochraceous tints of his wife. In this 
dress he joins large companies of his brothers and 
flies south, where he is known first as the “ reed- 
bird,” and then, in the rice-fields, as the “ rice- 
bird.” 
What could resemble the old time “needle in 
the hay-stack” more than a bobolink’s nest in a 
meadow full of high grass? But, do you say, the 
birds act as a magnet to discover it? That seems 
to remove all difficulties. But suppose your mag- 
net were bound to make you believe north, south, 
and east, west? When the bobolinks assure you 
their nest is — anywhere except where it is— 
' within a radius of five or six rods, you — well, try 
it some warm day next summer! Here is a bit of 
my experience. 
One day in June I think I have surely found a 
bobolink’s nest. Everything is simplified. In- 
stead of a dozen pairs of birds flying up helter 
skelter from all parts of the field, there is only 
one pair, and they kindly give me a line across 
the meadow ending with a small elm on the west, 
and a fence on the east. As they only occasion- 
ally diverge to an evergreen on the north or go 
for a run to a distant field on the south, I am 
confident. In imagination I am already examin- 
