34 MEMOIRS OF THE NUTTALL ORNITHOLOGICAL CLUB. 
allows a near approach, and presently takes wing, sometimes with a 
single chirp, oftener flying silently and rapidly long distances before 
dropping to the ground. The more actively they are pursued, the wilder 
they become and the further they will fly each time they are flushed, and 
the faster they seem to run from the spot where the breathless collector 
expects to find them. They often permit you to come within a few yards 
of them when first disturbed, and they never spring from under your 
very feet, probably because they start to run away the moment you are 
observed ; but after once flushing them it is by no means certain you can 
put them up a second time. I have sometimes seen them alight on bushes 
or trees or fences, but on these rare occasions they have generally been 
with flocks of Savanna and other Sparrows not far from treeless wastes 
of gently rolling sand-hills. Sometimes they are found on salt marshes, 
but they seem much to prefer dry, open sand-hillocks well covered with 
grass, or the depressions among them. 
On Sable Island, as might be expected, they were comparatively tame, 
although even there not permitting a very close inspection. They watch 
you, especially when singing from the tops of the sand-hills or the bushes, 
with evident suspicion, and as there is no cover they are not easily stalked. 
When you approach, they become restless, repeatedly crouching down as 
if about to fly, bobbing up again, and, finally, either slipping quietly down 
the opposite side of the sand-hill, or more frequently standing their ground 
until you are within a few yards. Meanwhile their uncertainty of mind is 
voiced by occasional sharp chirps, and presently they suddenly depart with 
brisk, undulating flight, following the inequalities of the ground until 
hidden by a distant hill. If pursued from place to place, they soon 
become very wary and will fly until they are nearly out of sight before 
alighting. 
When undisturbed in search of food, they walk jauntily about on the 
ground or over the shiny green carpet of Crowberry, the head nodding like 
a pigeon’s, the tail raised at a slight angle with the back. They indulge 
in sundry little hops and flirtings of the wings and tail when they hasten 
their steps to overtake some luckless insect, but their every movement is 
deliberate as compared with the racing gait with which we associate 
them when on our own seashore. They most frequented the vicinity of 
the ponds, and abounded towards the eastern end of the island where the 
hills and valleys are most extensively clothed with the Crowberry and the 
Juniper, inthe many snug nooks and pockets of which they hide away 
their cosey nests or find refuge at night from the penetrating, fog-laden air. 
When seen against this dark green background the birds looked very 
pale, while contrasted with the sand over which they ran or flew they 
