THE UPLAND PLOVER 203 
insects are buzzing and flying sleepily in the 
fields, the grasshoppers and crickets are ‘‘too 
lazy to get out of their own way,’’ the straw- 
berries are plenty and sweet, and until now all 
things have been just as the bird would have 
had them. By the time the farmer is ready to 
eut the ripened hay the little, long-legged grass- 
hopper killers are large enough to look out for 
themselves and strong enough for a long flight 
if it is necessary. So the haying time is the 
first hint they have that all the world is not hap- 
piness and peace, and oftentimes, until bitter 
experience has shown them the need of caution 
they will hardly get out of the way of the men 
at work in the fields. I have watched a young 
Upland for two hours at a stretch, walking it 
up from the grass and calling it back by an imi- 
tation of its note. Rarely would it go a hun- 
dred yards away and every whistling call was 
quickly answered. I stood in plain sight, but 
the bird would curl and wheel about my head, 
at times almost within hand reach, then drop- 
ping to the ground within twenty paces dis- 
tance, would run through the grass to get a 
nearer view of the visitor, peeping from behind 
a thick growing clump, then running to another, 
