eri THE PRAIRIE HORNED LARK. 
No. 91. 
PRAIRIE HORNED LARK. 
A. O. U. No. 474b. Otocoris alpestris praticola Hensh. 
Description.—Similar to preceding forms, but smaller and not so brightly 
colored; the forehead and line over eye dull white, the yellow of throat pale or 
wanting. Adult male, length about 7.25 (184.2) ; “wing 4.13 (104.9) ; tail 2.99 
(75.9). Adult female, “length 6.75-6.85 (171.5-174.); wing, average, 3.84 
(97.5) ; tail 2.73 (71.9)” (Ridgway). 
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; terrestrial; conspicuous black or black- 
ish markings about head. Black crown patch produced into feather-tufts or 
“horns” pointing backward. Forehead and line over eye whitish, never yellow. 
Nest, on the ground, a deep, cup-shaped depression plentifully lined with 
grass. Depth, 1.85; width, 2.12. Eggs, 3 or 4, pale greenish or bluish white to dull 
olive, heavy and evenly speckled with grayish or greenish brown. Ay. size 
ae) xe (OH (AOS: 3e UGs8))). 
General Range.—Upper Mississippi Valley and the region of the Great Lakes 
to New England, breeding eastward to western Massachusetts and even Maine; 
south in winter to Carolina, Texas, etc. 
Range in Ohio.—Common in northern portion at all seasons ; breeds sparingly 
southward at least as far as Columbus. Evidently increasing in numbers and 
distribution. 
BEFORE the eyes have been opened to his singular beauties and charms 
‘the Prairie Horned Lark is apt to rank among the unthinking along with 
the “brown birds” of roadside and field. He is a modest bird in some re- 
spects, it is true. Watch him as he indulges in a dust bath in a warm country 
road, or as he is surprised from his gleaning in late autumn. He will run 
ahead with a plaintive cry as tho begging not to be disturbed or driven 
from his treat. If your business is urgent and you must follow the road, 
he finally leaves you with a louder cry of protest, either to fly to pastures 
new, or, as is more likely, to circle around and fall in behind you at the old 
spot. He is emphatically a bird of the open. He scorns trees and will not 
trust himself to anything whose connection with the ground is less obvious 
than that of a fence-post or, perchance, a fence rail. When he is on the 
ground he walks or scampers, but does not hop like the Sparrow. 
Two phases of this bird’s life stand out most prominently to view, the 
winter flocking, and the early nesting. As winter approaches, these birds 
renounce allegiance to local ties and form roving bands, which flit from field 
to field or county to county, or else catch the fever of their more impetuous 
cousins from the North and join forces with them for a brief southern flight. 
