THE WESTERN LARK SPARROW. toe 
ing young rancher, my companion halted with a cry. He had caught the 
gleam of a Lark Sparrow’s eye as she sat brooding under a perfect mop of 
dead broom-sage. The camera was brought into requisition, and the lens 
pointed downward. ‘The camera-cloth bellied and flapped in the breeze, yellow 
tripod legs waved belligerently, and altogether there was much noise of 
photographic com- 
merce, but the little 
mother clung to her 
eggs. The stupid 
glass eye of the ma- 
chine, spite of all 
coaxing, saw noth- 
ing but twigs, and 
we were obliged to 
forego a picture of 
the sitting bird. To 
get the accompany- 
ing picture of eggs, 
I was obliged to 
hack away the pro- 
tecting brush, hav- 
ing first slipped in a 
handkerchief to pro- 
tect the nest and 
comtients from 
showering debris. 
The desert harbors 
many choice spirits, 
but none (save the 
incomparable Sage 
Thrasher ) more joy- 
ous or more talented 
than the Lark Spar- TEC OG Tela Photo by the Author. 
ig Whether it GROUND NEST OF WESTERN LARK SPARROW. 
is running nimbly 
along the ground or leaping into the air to catch a risen grasshopper, one 
feels instinctively that here is a dainty breed. The bird loves to trip ahead 
coquettishly along a dusty road, only to yield place at last to your insistent 
steed with an air of gentle reproach. As it flits away you catch a glimpse 
of the rounded tail, held half open, with its terminal rim of white, and you 
know you have met the aristocrat of the sage. 
Lark Sparrows are somewhat irregular in distribution, but their range 
