^^'o"'] PROCEEDINGS OF THE NATIONAL MUSEUM. 563 



Oil prairies; trails aloDg oar route from Livingston to Fort Pilly and 

 down on tbe west side of the river, in company with Lap Longspurs, 

 first half of September (Macoun). Carberry : Abundant summer resi- 

 dent; breeding nine each season; resident, excei)t during December, 

 January, and February (Thompson). Two Rivers: 1884; arrived March 

 23 (Griddle). Brandon: 1882, March 20 (Wood). Shell River: 1885, 

 first seen, fifty, on May 23; common in flocks going ndrth ; a transient 

 visitant; not breeding (Calcutt). Qu'Appelle: Common summer resi- 

 dent; arrives April 1 to 25 (Guernsey). 



On May 12, 1882, at camp 8 miles south of Brandon, midway be- 

 tween our tent and the fire 10 feet away, I started a small bird from 

 its nest. It ran away very reluctantly, and continued wistfully close 

 at hand, running about among the tufts of grass in the glare of the fire, 

 and returning each time as soon as it dared. At gray dawn I found 

 her on the nest again; she slowly walked away when I approached to 

 rekindle the fire, but returned almost immediately with her mate; and 

 now, for the first time, I saw them plainly. They were a pair of Shore 

 Larks. Encouraged, no doubt, by the presence of her mate, she once 

 more crept up to her nest and took up her position on the eggs, al- 

 though I was but 5 feet off. Frying our bacon over a brisk fire, I was 

 very careful to avoid hurting the birds or their home; and breakfast 

 being over, travelers, tent, fire, and horses all went ofi" and left them 

 to discharge their duties in peace. The nest contained three brown 

 eggs; it was sunken in the ground, and was made of grass and fiber, 

 and lined with two or three large feathers. 



My first real acquaintance with tlie Shore Lark at his home was in 

 Minnesota, in the last week of March, 1882. A fearful blizzard, of 

 course "the worst ever known in the country," had been raging for 

 two days or more. On the third day, when it was nearly over, I was 

 making my way out to see to the cattle. All the fences and low build- 

 ings were buried in snow, but the tall form of an elevator loomed up 

 out of a circle of bare ground, caused by the eddying of the blast, and 

 here, in the very vortex of the storm, in the thickest of the fight, were 

 three or four little Shore Larks, bracing themselves against the driving 

 wind and picking up the seeds that had been exposed by the displace- 

 ment of the snow. Poor little things ! I thought, you must be nearly 

 at death's door; but even while I looked one of them, under the lee of 

 the building, perched himself on a frozen clod and poured out his 

 sweet, simple little song in a way that seemed to say, "How happy 

 am I." 



But the longest night will end, and it is not always winter, even at 

 the Pole. The spring comes, and " the time of the singing of birds " 

 arrives, and the brown Shore Lark raises his horns with sprightly air, 

 and those who may chance to see him are now reminded that he is a 

 near kinsman to the famed skylark — that indeed he is a skylark. Thus 

 far he has sung only while perching on some clod or stone, but now 



