212 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



seed-gathering and spider-hunting, each one strictly on 

 his own account. 



It seemed to me, at the time, highly improbable that 

 they could follow this course for any length of time 

 without drawbacks, and I asked myself if they were 

 never molested when wandering over snow-clad fields. 

 Happily for my curiosity, I was soon enlightened. A 

 shadow floated quickly over the snow before me, a faint, 

 cat-like scream came from overhead, and as I turned I 

 saw between me and the sun a restless, impetuous spar- 

 row-hawk hurrying by. It too had seen these merry 

 larks from afar, or, descrying me, had guessed that I was 

 bird-hunting, and so came to see. At all events, on came 

 the hawk, and perched upon a projecting stake of the 

 worm-fence near by. From this '" coign of vantage " it 

 sailed over the spot where the larks were, but no sooner 

 was it directly above them than they moved en masse a 

 few yards, and, settling down, they scattered again. I 

 could scarcely follow their movements, but it was evident 

 that they were determined not to give the hawk an oppor- 

 tunity to single out any one of their number. In order 

 to accomplish this, they in one instance burrowed into 

 the snow until quite concealed. The hawk, darting like 

 lightning toward them, struck the low snow-bank, and, 

 being disappointed, he rose with a shrill cry of anger and 

 disgust. As he was flying in one direction, the larks rose 

 up as one body, and moved by me in the opposite di- 

 rection at a rate of speed never attained by any spar- 

 row-hawk. I was fairly thrilled with the suddenness and 

 sagacity of the movement, which was all over before I 

 fairly realized what had happened. I saw no more of 

 the larks that day, but enjoyed the chagrin of the hawk, 

 which vainly endeavored to determine their whereabouts. 

 The baffled bird seemed to hold me responsible for their 



