THE HORNED LARK 



By EDWARD HOWE FORBUSH 



THE NATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF AUDUBON SOCIETIES 

 Educational Leaflet No. 53 



It is November. On Martha's Vineyard, a little island south of Cape 

 Cod, the boiling surf pounds and roars along the lonely shore, shifting 

 the sands upon the bars and rattling the cobbles on the cold, stony 

 beaches. Surf-ducks dive and play amid the white-capped seas, while the 

 Atlantic stretches away in the dim distance to the home of the east wind 

 and the storm. 



Inland, among shrubby plains and rolling hills, nestles an isolated 

 farm. Here in a weedy field, sheltered somewhat from the searching 

 winds of the Atlantic, a flock of little brown birds creep in and out among 

 the stubble. They have come from their summer home, in bleak ami 

 barren Labrador, to their harvest home in this sea-girt isle. They are 

 Eastern Horned Larks, the type of the species. 



Anyone acquainted with bird-life in Europe would at once recognize 

 this little pedestrian to be a close ally of the far-famed Skylark. It is a 

 small bird measuring only seven and three-quarter inches in length, and 

 its weight does not exceed one and one-fifth ounces. Yet though so 

 small a bird it attracts attention wherever seen. 



It is April. The setting sun lies warm over the wide prairie-fields 

 of Minnesota, and the light, free, south wind gently breathes the breath 

 of life over an eager land. A little bird sits on her sunken nest in the 

 prairie sod, watching her mate as he springs aloft and gives himself to 

 the buoyant currents of the air. He swings in loose 

 circuits and zigzags back and forth, singing gently at Song- 



first, then, fluttering upward, rises by stages, taking Hight 



each upward step at a steep slant, sailing, ' gyrating, mounting higher 

 and still higher, pouring forth his whole soul in an ecstasy of son-. 



l r p and up he goes, swinging in dizzy spirals, pausing at one height 

 after another to send back to earth his music ; and so soars and sings until 

 he fades from view in the clear blue canopy of heaven, and the song is 

 wafted down sweeter and fainter until, like the skylark, he sings at 

 "heaven's i^'ilr." 



Then, as the full flood of his ecstasy begins to ebb, and his strength 

 wanes, he sinks slowly down: the far-away song swells on the listening 

 ear, and, still fluttering and singing, he comes again into view. Swing- 



