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The Skylark, Pro Tern 



The "Skylark, pro tent." So, I named 

 the Bobolink, one day, when my memories 

 were still vivid of the Skylarks I had heard 

 as they were sailing the air and singing 

 above Chorley Woods, a broad, sunny 

 heath not so many miles from old London 

 itself. Yes, without prejudice to either 

 songster, I still adhere to the inspiration 

 of the moment, which recorded this im- 

 pression of spiritual kinship between the 

 English and the American feathered ser- 

 aph (each aiming at Heaven's gate, in a 

 June-day transport). Each was an em- 

 bodied lyric. The former contained more 

 stanzas, it is true; but the requisite of 

 "simple, sensuous and passionate" could 

 be applied equally to each of these poets- 

 with-wings. While the rapture and ascent 

 of the sky lasted, my Bobolink could con- 

 tend, at every point, favorably with the 

 darling of Shelley's adoring muse. Or so, a 

 at least, I thought. 



My Skylark, pro tent, sailed the air, and 

 dropped earthward his astonishing and 

 ecstatic barcarolle. Sometimes he traversed 

 a distinct circle, — a circle which, probably, 

 enclosed the previous spot of earth, where 

 mate and nestlings were basking in the 

 warm June sun. Again, he sailed about 

 the little field, taking a lower range than 

 before — seemingly with a rapturous un- 

 certainty as to where his airy gyrations 

 would "bring up." Sometimes he alighted 

 for an instant on a stone wall, and once, 

 upon the telegraph wire, where he told 

 again all his heart-full of joys; or, rather, 

 it was as though joy told itself through a 

 bird's bill. A memory, — launched on an 

 indignant mental protest came to me just 

 then: "'spink, spank, spink!" The wonder- 

 ful performance to which I was listening, 

 was no more like this syllabic burlesquery 

 in sound, than a Nightingale's song would 

 be attempted to be expressed by any like 

 ridiculous combination of vowels and con- 

 sonants in a human mouth. Up into the 



sky again the little lyrist flew, his voice 

 yielding a pure, harp-like quality, with , 

 a flute at intervals miraculously interrupt- 

 ing the harp strain. As he made his ascent, 

 he became, as it were, a whole faint, fine 

 orchestra of delicious bird-music, com- 

 bining, in delighted confusion, whistling, 

 warbling, trilling, with a tender call-note 

 running through the whole. But he had 

 reached the top of his invisible, lofty 

 Piranesi staircase, and must reel back to 

 earth, somehow. His flight of celestial 

 music had seemed to be too much for him. 

 Having scattered it all, he came fluttering 

 down, and sank for a moment's silent 

 recollection of himself. With loosened 

 wings (I could see the heave of his breast), 

 he lighted and rested on the stone wall 

 near where I watched. And another Bobo- 

 link close by, as if to improve the oppor- 

 tunity of such silence, rose to occupy the 

 aerial auditorium, sailing and singing as 

 his brother before him had done. — Edith 

 M. Thomas, New Brighton, S. I. 



Sea Birds as Homing 'Pigeons' 



American ornithologists and bird-lovers 

 will probably be surprised to learn that 

 the Frigate Bird (F re gat a aquila) is fre- 

 quently employed by the natives of va- 

 rious parts of Polynesia as a carrier " Pig- 

 eon. " 



I have recently called attention to this 

 fact in the Bulletin of the New York Zoo- 

 logical Society, and it seems desirable to 

 make it known also to the readers of Bird- 

 Lore. During the past summer, Prof. John 

 B. Watson made observations on the hom- 

 ing instincts of Terns, and Noddies during 

 their nesting periods. 



According to the report of Director A. 

 G. Mayer, of the marine laboratory at the 

 Dry Tortugas, Florida, where Prof. Wat- 

 son studied the birds, "he demonstrated 

 that if the Sooty Terns and Noddies were 

 taken to Cape Hatteras and liberated, 

 they would return to their nests on Bird 



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