54 BIRDS OP THE WEST 



BOBOLINK. 



A man would have to be pretty small himself to shoot so small 

 a bird as Robert o 'Lincoln just to gratify his appetite, but a 

 mouth that will moisten at turtles and tripe, eels and frog-legs 

 and possum and skunk will fairly water at the sight of a plate 

 of bobolinks. 



No doubt he is a dainty morsel especially when he has grown 

 fat in the rice fields of the south where he is known as the rice- 

 bird and the reedbird, but how absurd it is to want to eat every- 

 thing that is dainty. 



He sings a very pretty song while on the wing, something 

 that few birds ever do, though of course many of them shout a 

 characteristic note or two. But the bobolink starts upward with 

 his song and as he reaches his climax, he floats away to earth 

 again as lightly as a flake of falling snow. In New England he 

 is thought to say "The devil, the devil is in all people for putting 

 in Bill Prentice as justice of the peace". I fear that Bill was 

 beaten by the bobolinks the next time he ran. 



In the west the bobolink is often confused with the lark 

 bunting which is smaller and wears no hood. 



Though our cheerful little friend has many names, Robert 

 'Lincoln, nicknamed bobolink, is his real name, more aristocratic 

 than "skunk-black-bird" which is given him because of his seem- 

 ing fondness for that malodorous plant of the marshes. Per- 

 haps he often places his nest near it mth the hope that his enemies 

 will keep their distance. 



It is hard to find the nest of Lady Bob for she will sneak 

 away to quite a distance before she will take to her wings and if 

 you come upon her while she is sitting upon her eggs she will 

 very likely crouch and trust to luck for a moment for she wears 

 her feathers to match her nest. 



How strange it is that man is the greatest enemy of the birds ! 

 Squirrels and snakes are not in the same class with him for he 

 destroys in one way or another as many as are destroyed by all 

 other causes. How many nests are turned under by the plow ! 

 How many go up in smoke at the burning of the fields in spring- 

 time! How many fall when man, arm in arm with death, goes 

 forth in search of food or feathers ! They are going. The scarlet 



