At the Water’s Edge 
pretty scene by standing, one upon each rock, 
while the waves dash by them — ‘ mounted 
specimens,’’ in nature’s own inimitable fashion. 
Amid such bleak scenery, I discovered, a few 
rods back from the water, what I had never 
seen before, although in such localities they 
are by no means rare in winter—a large flock of 
shore larks ; which, at this season, frequent the 
borders of the ocean, particularly in stubble 
fields, and showing as much affinity for the sea 
as many water fowl, although toward spring 
they are often found farther inland ; and, a few 
weeks later, they all leave us for the more in- 
viting wastes of Labrador. 
The shore lark—also called horned lark, from 
a short feathery tuft over each eye—is one of 
our prettiest winter birds, about seven inches 
long, brownish olive above, white beneath, 
yellow on the throat, and with a conspicuous 
black crescent on the breast. At a distance, 
larks resemble in plumage one species of plover, 
but their manners are distinctly different. They 
show timidity and confidence curiously min- 
gled ; for, generally as you approach them, they 
simply edge away from you, plainly saying that 
familiarity shall go so far and no farther. They 
are exceedingly nimble on foot, gliding about 
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