8o THE WILDERNESS HUNTER. 



buck walked over the divide to my right and 

 stood still until I sent a bullet into its chest ; 

 so that I made my appearance in camp with 

 three antelope. 



I spoke above of the sweet singing of the 

 western meadow lark and plains skylark ; 

 neither of them kin to the true skylark, by the 

 way, one being a cousin of the grakles and 

 hang-birds, and the other a kind of pipit. To 

 me both of these birds are among the most 

 attractive singers to which I have ever lis- 

 tened ; but with all bird-music much must be 

 allowed for the surroundings and much for 

 the mood, and the keenness of sense, of the 

 listener. The lilt of the little plains skylark 

 is neither very powerful nor very melodious; 

 but it is sweet, pure, long-sustained, with a 

 ring of courage befitting a song uttered in 

 highest air. 



The meadow lark is a singer of a higher 

 order, deserving to rank with the best. Its 

 song has length, variety, power and rich 

 melody ; and there is in it sometimes a 

 cadence of wild sadness, inexpressibly touch- 

 ing. Yet I cannot say that either song would 

 appeal to others as it appeals to me ; for to 

 me it comes forever laden with a hundred 

 memories and associations ; with the sight of 

 dim hills reddening in the dawn, with the 

 breath of cool morning winds blowing across 

 lonely plains, with the scent of flowers on the 

 sunlit prairie, with the motion of fiery horses, 

 with all the strong thrill of eager and buoy- 

 ant life. I doubt if any man can judge dis- 

 passionately the bird songs of his own 

 country ; he cannot disassociate them from 



