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agreeable chatter. But the plains air seems 

 to give it a voice, and it will perch on the top 

 of a bush or tree and sing for hours in rich, 

 bubbling tones. Out on the prairie there are 

 several kinds of plains sparrows which sing 

 very brightly, one of them hovering in the 

 air all the time, like a bobolink. Sometimes 

 in the early morning, when crossing the open, 

 grassy plateaus, I have heard the prince of 

 them all, the Missouri skylark. The skylark 

 sings on the wing, soaring over head and 

 mounting in spiral curves until it can hardly 

 be seen, while its bright, tender strains never 

 cease for a moment. I have sat on my horse 

 and listened to one singing for a quarter of 

 an hour at a time without stopping. There 

 is another bird also which sings on the wing, 

 though I have not seen the habit put down in 

 the books. One bleak March day, when 

 snow covered the ground and the shaggy 

 ponies crowded about the empty corral, a 

 flock of snow-buntings came familiarly 

 round the cow-shed, clamoring over the 

 ridge-pole and roof. Every few moments 



