MARCH 29 



before launching out on their sparrow 

 strain. And the meadow-lark, who has 

 fed industriously but quietly all winter on 

 the weed seeds and scattered grain until he 

 looks as fat as a quail, before March is over 

 will send out his long-drawn "Now see 

 here" in calm irony, for he knows that you 

 cannot see him. 



The meadow-lark has come to have as 

 elusive a suit of clothes as can well be found 

 on a bird. The color of his feathers is by 

 no means a hap-hazard matter. Slowly 

 and gradually they have become what they 

 are; and, while he himself is doubtless 

 unconscious of the change, he could 

 certainly choose no better for himself if 

 he tried. 



There are three well-defined purposes 

 that color may serve in the bird world, and 

 the meadow-lark has taken all of them for 

 his own. A bird may dress himself so as to 

 elude his foes, to woo his mate, or to sum- 

 mon his children and friends. When he 

 dresses to escape the notice of his enemies 

 he must look like the background in which 



