232 KNOWING BIRDS THROUGH STORIES 



the hundreds on the hare prairies of the Missouri River 

 valley between Omaha and Sioux City when the ther- 

 mometer was twenty helow zero. At such times their 

 food consists largely of such seeds as they can pick 

 up. The day is never so cold but that if the sun comes 

 out and shines for an hour or two you can hear 

 them singing their thankfulness for its warmth. Where 

 I now live near Nashville, Tennessee, larks come in by 

 thousands every fall and are to be seen in great numbers 

 almost every day. In fact, I can sit in my class room and 

 look out over the pasture and see a dozen or more dis- 

 puting the hunting grounds with the kildeers. Most of 

 the larks go farther south than our locality, and in the 

 latter part of January or the first of February as they 

 begin to work their way back northward the fields and 

 meadows are all atune with them. They move north 

 leisurely, having a good time as they go, so it is no un- 

 common thing for them to spend several weeks with us 

 before going further. 



Our meadow larks are not much like the English lark. 

 In fact, ours are not really larks. The English birds have 

 a prolonged song, while ours merely whistle a delight- 

 fully musical note, and repeat it every few moments. As 

 I write this, December tenth, I can hear the meadow larks 

 singing in the distance. They have come from the north 

 and, unlike the bluebirds, are singing their thankfulness 

 for a delightful winter home. 



I have introduced you to the meadow larks, but I have 

 not said one word about their company name. When a 

 lark is introduced into learned company he is not presented 

 as "Mr. Lark," but as "Mr. American Oriole/' (a later 

 name than starling), for that is his name in the big books. 



