LEAF AND TENDRIL 



field, by the " zeep," " zeep," which the bird utters 

 on the ground, preliminary to its lark-like flight. 

 We paused and listened. The light of day was fast 

 failing; a faint murmur went up from the fields 

 below us that defined itself now and then in the good- 

 night song of some bird. Now it was the lullaby of 

 the song sparrow or the swamp sparrow. Once the 

 tender, ringing, infantile voice of the bush sparrow 

 stood out vividly for a moment on that great back- 

 ground of silence. " Zeep," " zeep," came out of the 

 dimness six or eight rods away. Presently there was 

 a faint, rapid whistling of wings, and my companion 

 said: "There, he is up." The ear could trace his 

 flight, but not the eye. In less than a minute the 

 straining ear failed to catch any sound, and we knew 

 he had reached his chmax and was circling. Once we 

 distinctly saw him whirling far above us. Then he 

 was lost in the obscurity, and in a few seconds there 

 rained down upon us the notes of his ecstatic song 

 — a novel kind of hurried, chirping, smacking war- 

 ble. It was very brief, and when it ceased, we knew 

 the bird was dropping plummet-like to the earth. 

 In half a minute or less his " zeep," " zeep," came 

 up again from the ground. In two or three minutes 

 he repeated his flight and song, and thus kept it up 

 during the half -hour or more that we remained to 

 listen : now a harsh plaint out of the obscurity upon 

 the ground; then a jubilant strain from out the 

 obscurity of the air above. His mate was probably 

 120 



