BIRDS. 73 



ten-acre field. In the afternoon we moved it up 

 to within three feet, and retired inside with the 

 camera. In a few minutes along came the lark, 

 and hovering over her chicks for a few seconds, 

 like a toy-bird suspended on the end of a bit of 

 elastic, called to them in twittering notes, at which 

 signal of her presence they all shot up their 

 heads and opened their orange-coloured mouths 

 ridiculously wide. She quickly alighted, and 

 running up gave each a small worm, which she 

 appeared to fetch from the back of her throat. 

 Generally, one of the worms which she brought 

 was visible in her bill, but this was by no means 

 always the case. When she had distributed her 

 supply of food she waited for a moment, and then, 

 thrusting her head into the depths of the nest, 

 attended to its sanitary arrangements and flew 

 away. I watched out of a hole on one side of 

 the lens, and my brother out of one on the other. 

 There was a strong breeze blowing at the time, 

 and the lark always flew down it on her way to 

 search for more food, and faced it on coming back. 

 She heralded her return every time by a twittering 

 call that was answered by her offspring, which she 

 fed on an average once every quarter of an hour. 

 Her brood was nearly ready to fly, and one of 

 them, stronger and bolder than the rest, ran 

 out of his little cup- shaped home and took up 

 his station some fifteen yards away. When his 

 mother returned she discovered him, and alighting 



