60 THE SMALLER JntJTISJT KIRKS. 



the very thought is suggestive of music on the stomach, which most 

 be very unpleasant; and yet people do both shut up the Sky Lark 

 and eat him. We have not unfrequcntly heard one singing in the 

 streets in his circular fronted cage, on the bit of withered turf, and 

 what a mockery of merriment it has seemed to us. He sang simply 

 because he must sing; but oh, how much more joyous he would have 

 been beneath the open canopy of heaven, blown about by every breeze, 

 free to go and come at pleasure. 



Buffon relates a singular instance of maternal care manifested by a 

 young hen bird of this species. She was brought to him in the month 

 of May, and was then not able to feed without assistance. She was 

 hardly fledged, when the naturalist received a nest of three or four 

 unfledged Larks, to which she took a strong liking, tending them day 

 and night, cherished them under her wings, and fed them with her 

 bill, although they were scarcely younger than herself. Her tender 

 care of them was unceasing. If they were taken from her, she flew 

 to them as soon as permitted to do so, and would not attempt to 

 effect her escape when opportunities were offered. Her affection grew 

 upon her so that she neglected food and drink, and at length expired, 

 consumed, as it seemed, by maternal anxiety. So essential were her 

 cares, that none of the young birds long survived her. 



The Sky Lark is one of the most easy birds to snare; because 

 directly he is startled by the net coming over, he rises perpendicularly, 

 his instinct being to soar; other birds will fly off obliquely or hori- 

 zontally, before the net is close to the ground, and so escape, but he 

 is a "scorner of the earth," and like that 



"Vaulting ambition that o'erleaps itself," 



often pays dearly for its attempts to rise. 



The food of this Lark during the summer is almost entirely insec- 

 tivorous, caterpillars and worms forming the chief of its daily fare. 

 The bird is said to stamp with its feet on the ground, near worm 

 casts, and when the slimy wriggler, alarmed by the concussion, puts 

 up its head, it is immediately seized by its watchful foe, and drawn 

 out to be devoured. It is only in the winter, when insect food cannot 

 be obtained, that this bird becomes a plunderer of the stack-yard, and 

 takes a very small payment for the benefit he has rendered to the 

 cultivator. At this time of year it is that Larks gather into flocks, 

 congregating occasionally in incredible numbers; thus in 1856, we read 

 in the "Doncaster Gazette/' that an extraordinary sight was witnessed 

 in the fields attached to the Newton Farms, near Doncaster. The 



