THE BOBOLINK. 



by tne 

 Author 



sembles a French dancing master in uniform, 

 singing, fiddling, dancing, and calling off at 

 the same time." 



But when some fine morning about a 

 week later, a shy, plainly attired, brown lady 

 drops from the sky with a soft dink, then 

 it is that the passionate soul of the singer is 

 fairly consumed by the inner fires of melody 

 and desire. He dashes like mad after his 

 lady love and pursues her at breakneck speed 

 through the thickets of weeds and about 

 fence-rows until he loses her in the grass. 

 Then he hovers, or rather dances, in the air, 

 over the spot where she vanished, or else 

 retires to a fence-post, hard by, to make 

 frantic protestations of his devotion. Oh, 

 geezeler, geezeler, gilpity, onkeler, oozeler, 

 oo, comes from that perfect throat; and 



somewhere between two blades of grass the lady is watching him the sly 

 minx and chuckling softly to herself. 



Once I heard a chorus of bachelors or was it a musical contest ? where 

 seven birds in the top of a little willow were singing with might and main. 

 The effect of that wild melody of tinkling, palpitating and flute-like notes with 

 its changeful syncopations and melodious discord will not soon be forgotten. 

 It was an all star team of the world's most accomplished mirth makers. 



All the world loves a lover, and such ardor as "Robert of Lincoln" 

 displays is not in vain. With a heart completely won the female scrapes a 

 little hollow in the ground amongst the tall grass of a meadow or deserted field. 

 Here upon a slight lining of dried grass, she deposits five or six eggs, clay- 

 colored with umber blotches, wonderfully like the ground. The owner is mis- 

 tress of the art of concealment, and usually escapes detection even from the 

 most inquisitive. In my experience, the female flushes at long distances, but 

 even when she permits a close approach to the nest she herself skulks a long 

 way before rising. If you care to spend an hour or so hunting for the treas- 

 ures, the safest way is to mark the spot where the bird rose, and then hunt 

 toward your original position along the line of approach. 



During the incubation the male is the same rollicksome fellow that he was 

 during courtship; but he sings faithfully to his sitting mate, and he re- 

 ligiously drives intruders from the critical portion of the field. If several pairs 

 occupy one meadow, as is frequently the case, the males spend a good deal of 

 time trying to compel each other to respect imaginary boundaries. 



The moulting of the Bobolink is one of the most interesting phases of 



