Il8 IN BIRD LAND. 



afterward, while strolling one evening at dusk 

 through a favorite timber-belt, I noticed the snow- 

 birds, or juncos, darting up from the leaves and 

 bushes and small brush-heaps, beneath which they 

 had found dainty little coverts from the storm. In 

 many places crooked twigs and branches, covered 

 with leaves, lay on the ground, leaving underneath 

 small spaces overarched and sheltered, and into 

 these cosey nooks the juncos had crept for the 

 night. No enemies, at least in winter, would find 

 them there, and their hiding-places were snug and 

 warm. Long after dark I lingered in the woods, 

 and everywhere startled the snow-birds from their 

 leafy couches. At one place a whole colony of 

 them had taken lodgings. When my passing fright- 

 ened them away, they flew through the darkness 

 into the neighboring trees. After waiting at some 

 distance for several minutes, I returned to the spot, 

 and found that some of the birds had gone back 

 to their bedrooms on the ground. 



In my nocturnal prowlings through the fields and 

 lowlands, I have frequently frightened the meadow- 

 larks from the grass, and that long before nest-build- 

 ing or incubation had begun. Of course, they were 

 recognized by their nervous alarm-calls, as well as by 

 the peculiar sound of their fluttering wings. What 

 surprises me beyond measure is that they so often 

 select low, boggy places for their roosts, instead of 

 the dry pleasant upland slopes. But there is no 

 accounting for tastes in the bird world. The grass- 

 finches and lark-sparrows, like their relatives just 



