The Alaska Longspur 203 



dant on the Fur Seal Islands, where they are the most beautiful songsters 

 among the limited number of land birds summering there. They winter 

 through parts of central Europe and middle Asia to Japan, and through the 

 middle northern United States, mainly from the Great Lakes to Oregon and 

 Washington, and sometimes ranging to Texas. 



Early in May, the tundra on the Alaskan coast of Bering Sea is still mostly 

 covered with snow, except in grassy spots on southern exposures and other 

 favorably situated places. Here the first male Longspurs suddenly appear 

 in all the beauty of their summer dress. At this season, the males are beautiful 

 birds, the head and breast being jet-black with white or buffy stripes back of 

 the eyes, the back of the neck bright rufous, and the back streaked with black 

 and brownish. The females, as usual among birds, are more obscurely marked, 

 and reach the breeding-ground a little later than the males. They arrive 

 on the coast of Norton Sound in flocks and spread rapidly over their breeding- 

 ground. Despite the bleak surroundings and chilling winds, they are soon 

 abundant after the first arrivals, and by the middle of May are in full song. 

 As if conscious of their handsome appearance, the males choose the tops of 

 projecting tussocks, rocks or small knolls, the only breaks in the monotonous 

 surface, where their bright colors render them conspicuous. 



The Lapland Longspur is one of the few birds, which, like the Skylark and 

 the Bobolink, is so filled with the ecstasy of life in spring that it must mount 

 into the air to pour forth its joy in exquisite song. The males are scattered 

 here and there over the tundra on their chosen projecting points, and at 

 frequent intervals mount slowly on tremulous wings ten or fifteen yards into 

 the air. There they pause a moment and then, with wings up-pointed forming 

 V-shaped figures, they float gently back to their perches, uttering, as they 

 sink, their liquid notes, which fall in tinkling succession on the ear. It is 

 an exquisite, slightly jingling melody, with much less power, but slightly 

 resembling the song of the Bobolink. It has more melody than the song of 

 that bird, and is so filled with the joyous charm of springtime that no one can 

 hear it unmoved. The period of song ends soon after the first of June, when 

 the eggs are being incubated. By the last of May, each songster has his mate, 

 and they build a snug nest, well located in the heart of a sheltering tussock or 

 on a dry knoll, in which are placed from four to seven eggs. During my resi- 

 dence at St. Michael, I examined many nests, and the number might readily 

 have been doubled. One could scarcely walk about the tundra for half an hour 

 during the proper season without finding from one to half a dozen of them. 



The nests are generally built in the driest parts of the tundra, in a hummock, 

 a tuft of grass, or perhaps a little bunch of dwarf willow. As one comes upon 

 it, the female usually flutters off at one's feet, and is immediately joined by 

 the male. Both hover about or fly restlessly from tussock to tussock, uttering 

 protests at the intruder as long as he remains in the vicinity. 



If the eggs are nearly ready to hatch, the female shows the greatest solici- 



