THE AUDUBON BULLETIN 53 



other songsters, were silent, but the shrill screech of a large species of 

 Cicada repeatedly startled us as we brushed against the weeds, while 

 numerous grasshoppers were far more noisy than the birds. As we came 

 well out on the prairie, however, a beautiful and unlooked-for sight 

 appeared; in short, we were completely transfixed by the, to us, novel 

 spectacle of numerous exquisitely graceful Swallow-tailed Kites floating 

 about on bouyant wing, now gliding to the right or left, then sweeping 

 in broad circles, and approaching so near that several were easily shot. 

 Soaring lightlv above them were many Mississippi Kites, of which one 

 would now and then close its wings and plunge downward, as if to strike 

 the very earth, but instantly checking the velocity of its fall by sudden 

 spreading of the wings, would then shoot upward again almost to the 

 height from which it had descended. When two or more passed one 

 another at opposite angles — as frequently happened — the sight was 

 beautiful in the extreme. 



The total number of species observed during these two trips, within 

 the bounds of the prairie itself, numbered about ninety-five on each 

 occasion; while the surrounding woodlands, cultivated grounds and 

 river bottoms added so many more, that a total of about one hundred 

 and forty species were ascertained to, in all probability, breed upon an 

 area five miles square, having for its centre the portion of the prairie 

 where we made our investigations. Of this grand total, only twenty-five 

 were water-birds, the remainder of one hundred and fifteen species of 

 land-birds being, perhaps, as large a number of regular summer resi- 

 dents as any locality of equal extent in North America can boast. 



A third visit to this prairie was made early in June, 1883 — exactly 

 twelve years after the first trip. The change which had taken place in 

 the interval was almost beyond belief. Instead of an absolutely open 

 prairie some six miles broad by ten in extreme length, covered with its 

 original characteristic vegetation, there remained only 160 acres not under 

 fence. With this insignificant exception, the entire area was covered 

 by thriving farms, with their neat cottages, capacious barns, fields of 

 corn and wheat, and even extensive orchards of peach and apple trees. 

 The transformation was complete; and it was only by certain ineffaceable 

 landmarks that we were able to identify the locality of our former visits. 

 As a consequence, we searched in vain, for the characteristic prairie 

 birds. Upon the unenclosed tract of 160 acres — a common grazing 

 ground for the herds of the neighborhood — Dick Cissels, Henslow's 

 Buntings, Yellow- winged Sparrows, and the Meadow-larks were abun- 

 dant as ever; and running in the road, now wallowing in the dust, then 

 alighting upon a fence stake, were plenty of Prairie Larks (Otocoris); 

 but — shades of Audubon! — equally numerous were the detestable and 

 detested European House Sparrow, already ineradicably established. 

 We searched in vain for Bell's Vireo, for all the thickets had been de- 

 stroyed. Neither was a solitary kite, of either species, to be seen. 



