104 BOBOLINK 



village of Farmington they keep the meadows 

 ringing with their songs. I remember passing 

 one field where the birds made black spots on the 

 isolated weeds in tne distance, and other black 

 forms started up out of the deep grass nearer by 

 and crossed and recrossed the meadow in intersect- 

 ing lines singing, till my companions, some of them 

 hearing the song for the first time, pressed to the 

 meadow fence and stood in silent delight listening 

 to the jubilant chorus. The joyous birds seemed 

 to fly back and forth for the very purpose of freer 

 song, the rapid, jumbled, tumbling medley need- 

 ing the motion of the wings for its fullest out- 

 pouring. One day I saw a curious sight: a 

 singing Bobolink when in mid air raised his wings 

 over his back and held them there like set sails, 

 and then threw up his head and throat as if to 

 let the song bubble out. The flying birds often 

 put down their wings and hold them stiff as they 

 sail down to the ground. 



When watching a field of Bobolinks, one is 

 impressed by their originality of dress. While 

 most other birds are lighter underneath than 

 above, the Bobolink is just the opposite. But 

 instead of being an exception to the law of pro- 

 tective coloration, this may be to protect him 

 from the weasels and other nocturnal enemies 

 that come on him when he sleeps on the ground. 

 Then, too, the Bobolink's diurnal enemies see him 

 from above ; he lives without cover, in an open, 



