4 The Wilson Bulletin — No. 94 



Duck" I observed. This variety also nests in hollow stumps 

 and stubs. 



The last, but most fascinating- spot to visit, took me across 

 a weedy stretch of prairie, full of hummocks. This was the 

 one place where Baird's Sparrow was common. A dozen 

 "trilling" males in a space of forty acres. Descending from 

 this table land, we see and hear the little Clay-colored Spar- 

 row, where the cover might remind us of genuine Field Spar- 

 row under bush. 



Before me is a vast expanse of green meadow, low, damp 

 and mossy. Many voices are familiar and remind us of visits 

 to Illinois marshes. We recognize the Bittern, Coot, Red- 

 wing and Yellow-headed Blackbird, Bobolink, Yellow Warb- 

 ler, Maryland Yellow-throat, Savannah Sparrow, Marsh Hawk, 

 and Short-eared Owl. 



You eliminate these and there are other sounds, less, or 



K 

 wholly unfamiliar, to the average observer. 



Conspicuous among them is a low wheezy song, vibrating 

 in waves through the still air of a June sunset. So appro- 

 priate a song for this desolate, but awe-inspiring landscape. 

 The vesper recital of Nelson's Sharp-tail Sparrow, a fairly 

 common summer resident, away out here on the big- coulee 

 marsh. 



I stand in the midst of that paradise, where in 1896 one 

 of Dakota's pioneer ornithologists noted Swans, Cranes. 

 Geese, Curlew, Pelicans and Comorants all dwelling unmo- 

 lestedly. What a sight it must have been, for today it seems 

 to me to be enchanted. 



Resting against a boulder, reveling in the prolonged sun- 

 set, a metallic "click" penetrates the verdure directly in front. 

 The author has several imitators. The birds are ventrilo- 

 quists and you can't disturb nor dislodge them. Take two 

 stones the size of black walnuts and bring them together 

 squarely. This will convey to you a proper interpretation of 

 the notes. They issue from throats of the little yellow Rail, 

 the feathered mouse of the Northern swales. 



Chicago, III. 



