192 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



so we hid again. She went down in the same clump again. WeGwent 

 over and found the nest. It contained three young, and very young 

 they were too, for they didn't have their eyes open even. My brother 

 got his camera and tried to photograph the mother bird brooding, 

 which he did after a good deal of trouble. When the young birds grew 

 older we tried to take the mother feeding them out on a branch, which 

 we also did after a good deal of patience. After awhile the parent 

 birds found out that we didn't harm their young and became very tame. 

 My brother even thought of putting the young on a twig, and hold- 

 ing it in his hand, to see if the mother would feed them. We were de- 

 lighted to find that she would after a great deal of patient waiting. 

 We now thought we could even get her on our hands by the same 

 means. We hid ourselves with just our hands sticking out. After 

 about an hour the bird began hopping nearer, till at last she actually 

 hopped on my brother's hand. We had accomplished what we wanted 

 to do. Afterwards the birds fed their young on my brother's shoulder 

 when he was sitting out in full view. The above story is perfectly 

 true. Clarence C. Abbott, (aged 10) New York City. 



I am not young, but I have to record the arrival of the Meadow Lark 

 on the 8th day of March, earlier than was ever seen in this locality. 

 You see we were not sure about the ground hog, for the day was 

 mostly cloudy, but the sun shone out bright about mid-day. We have 

 had rain and even thunder, but the wise ones shook their heads saying, 

 "Oh we will have cold weather yet." Then came the robin, but some 

 felt sorry for it. "Surely we will have cold weather yet." Then some 

 black dirt in the greenhouse showed signs of life and the wooly leaves 

 of the hepatica made their appearance, and a fern frond rolled up. I 

 said "spring is coming, is here now." This morning while at work a 

 familiar note caught my ear, I said "listen that is the Meadow Lark." 

 And there he was on the top of a tall tree instead of on the ground. 

 Of course others will be ahead of me, and I, Oh, well, it is such a sweet 

 sad song, fitting for a Sabbath morn and I wanted to tell somebody. 

 Pardon my entrance and I will go. S. B. Covert, Plymouth. 



(A YOUNG WOODCOCK,) 



Making my way through a large belt of trees I came to an open 

 field. A creek ran through this field, and its banks were covered with 

 willows. Some farmer had cut down some of these willows and piled 

 them into brush heaps. Sumac trees grew abundantly near these heaps 

 and the grass evidently never been cut. I was walking past one of the 

 small ones and keeping a lookout for birds nests, when all of a sudden 



