THE NIDOLOGIST 71 
to find the hungry, naked little offspring in 
nest almost identical with that already 
described, except thatit was not sunken in 
the ground at all. 
Searcely less pleasing in its way is the 
tastefully dressed Chestnut-collared Long- 
spur (C. ornatus) with its black velvet 
breast, bright c.rvical collar, white tail, 
sprightly way and pleasing song. It is 
essentially a prairie bird, and is never, so 
far as I know, found in the immediate vic- 
inity of timber. Its arrival here in the 
Spring is intermediate between those early 
and late—about the first of May and for 
nearly a montbit seems given over entirely 
to an idle, joyous life, and I find that my 
notes disclose no record of nest building 
earlier than June 3 and no full set taken 
before June ro. The nest is invariably 
on the ground, sunk flush with the surface, 
the neat, cup shaped cavity being evidently 
the work of the birds themselves and lined 
with fine dried grasses and the finer weed 
stalks woven with much more care than is 
employed by the Bobolink. Generally a 
spot overshadowed by a tussock of grass or 
or a weed stalk is selected and the most 
interesting nests found by me hada sprig 
of the golden-rod for a sunshade. In this 
region a fair proportion of nests will be 
found from afew yards toas many rods 
from a travelled highway, where the birds 
seem to find favorite feeding grounds. And, 
too, it is quite possible that they are not 
averse to the occasional visit of man and 
beast, for they are habitually familiar and 
cheertul in the presence of man and will fly 
about a visitor inan engaging way, pouring 
forth their gentle, twittering song in appar- 
ent confidence and pride. 
Dr. Couesin his Key says: ‘‘In the breed- 
ing season the birds are soaring and singing 
as they fly,rising to great height and letting 
themselves down with the wings held like 
parachutes.’’ And some one else has aptly 
described this song descent of the bird as a 
‘sliding down on the scale of its own 
music.’’ I think that the birds are practi- 
cally mute except when on the wing in the 
breeding season. 
The eggs are commonly four—sometimes 
three, rarely five, and are uniformly dull, 
greyish-white with brown and blackish 
dots, spots and blotches, and lilac shell 
markings pretty widely scattered over sur- 
face, with now and then a specimen where 
the markings are most numerous at greater 
end. They are quite unlike eggs of any of 
the terrestrial Sparrows, and,indeed,among 
eggs of species hereabouts are quite dis- 
tinctive, though one set taken by me 
strongly suggests—except in their much 
greater size—eggs of the Yellow Warbler 
(D. aestiva). Three widely varying sets 
show average dimensions .70x.50, .70x56 
and .75x.52. 
The Prairie Horned Lark (O. alpestris 
praticola) interests me much, being both 
pleasing in appearance and of a disposition 
that seems to regard man rather in the light 
of a friend to be cultivated than otherwise. 
It is something ofa singer while soaring 
during the breeding season, but only once 
have I heard its song while at rest and then 
Tinstantly recalled Langille’s homely but 
apt comparison, ‘“‘the screaking of an 
ungreased wheelbarrow,’’ a performance 
certainly not altogether pleasing, but unique 
and comical. 
I never know how writers can be so cer- 
tain that a particular species raises more 
than one brood ina season. ‘The books are 
positive that the Horned Larks do this, yet 
of very many nests found by me from my 
boyhood up I recall none later than corn 
planting time—say May 10 to 20—and 
surely these must have been the first nests 
otthe season. Thespecies isa fairly common 
breeder in the Devil’sLake region evidently, 
though just here I have taken but one nest 
containing eggs, and the attendant circum- 
stances bore out the reputation of this bird 
for hardihood. 
April 4 in this latitude is apt to be 
pretty uncomfortable—cold, wet and windy 
and not infrequently much like March in 
more Southern latitudes,—but on this date, 
with scattering snowflakes in the air, and 
signs excellent fora “spell of weather,” I 
discovered a pair of these birds engaged in 
laying fragments of straw and coarse grass 
in the bottom ofa very neat cup-shaped 
cavity inthe ground among the rank dried 
grass of the previous year’s growth. It 
was far out on the prairie by the roadside, 
and I stopped my horse within 15 feet and 
was an interested spectator for an hour. 
The work was performed leisurely and 
apparently without the slightest concern at 
my presence, the birds flying directly to the 
nest after one preliminary investigation of 
me, but their work was so desultory that 
scarcely a dozen pieces of nest material 
were brought and placed in position during 
my stay. 
During the night of April 15 there was 
