THE UPLAND PLOVER 203 



insects are buzzing and flying sleepily in the 

 fields, the grasshoppers and crickets are "too 

 lazy to get out of their own way," the straw- 

 berries are plenty and sweet, and until now all 

 things have been just as the bird would have 

 had them. By the time the farmer is ready to 

 cut the ripened hay the little, long-legged grass- 

 hopper killers are large enough to look out for 

 themselves and strong enough for a long flight 

 if it is necessary. So the haying time is the 

 first hint they have that all the world is not hap- 

 piness and peace, and oftentimes, until bitter 

 experience has shown them the need of caution 

 they will hardly get out of the way of the men 

 at work in the fields. I have watched a young 

 Upland for two hours at a stretch, walking it 

 up from the grass and calling it back by an imi- 

 tation of its note. Rarely would it go a hun- 

 dred yards away and every whistling call was 

 quickly answered. I stood in plain sight, but 

 the bird would curl and wheel about my head, 

 at times almost within hand reach, then drop- 

 ping to the ground within twenty paces dis- 

 tance, would run through the grass to get a 

 nearer view of the visitor, peeping from behind 

 a thick growing clump, then running to another. 



