246 Birds. 



the gladdened creation the return of their best friend, 

 the sun. The instinctive warmth of attachment which 

 the female Skylark bears towards her own species, even 

 when not her nestling, is remarkable. "In the month 

 of May," says Buffon, " a young hen bird was brought 

 to me, which was not able to feed without assistance. I 

 caused her to be reared ; and she was hardly fledged, 

 when I received from another place a nest of three or 

 four unfledged larks. She took a strong liking to these 

 newcomers, which were but little younger than herself; 

 she tended them night and day, cherished them beneath 

 her w r ings, and fed them with her bill. Nothing could 

 interrupt her tender offices. If the young ones were torn 

 from her she flew to them as soon as they were liberated, 

 and would not think of effecting her own escape, which 

 she might have done a hundred times. Her affection 

 grew upon her; she neglected food and drink; she at 

 length required the same support as her adopted offspring, 

 and .expired at last, consumed with maternal solicitude. 

 None of the young ones long survived her. They died 

 one after another; so essential were her cares, which 

 were equally tender and judicious." 



The Lark mounts almost perpendicularly, and by suc- 

 cessive springs, into the air, where it hovers at a vast 

 height. Its descent is in an oblique direction, unless 

 threatened by some ravenous bird of prey, or attracted 

 by its mate, when it drops to the ground like a stone. 

 On its first leaving the earth, its notes are feeble and in- 

 terrupted ; but, as it rises, they gradually swell to their 

 full tone. As the Lark's flight is always at sun-rise, there 

 is something in the scenery that renders its song pecu- 

 liarly delightful : the opening morning, the landscape just 

 gilded by the rays of the returning sun, and the beauty 

 of the surrounding objects, all contribute to heighten 

 our relish for its pleasing melody. 



Up springs the Lark, 



Shrill-voiced and loud, the messenger of morn, 

 Ere yet the shadows fly, he, mounted, sings 

 Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts 

 Calls up the tuneful nations." 



THOMSON. 



