WAYS OF NATURE 
poured out his voluble and copious strain. “ What a 
contrast,” I thought, “between the voice of the 
spluttering, tongue-tied lark, and the free, liquid, 
and varied song of the bobolink!” 
I have heard of a curious fact in the life-histories 
of these larks in the West. A Michigan woman once 
wrote me that her brother, who was an engineer on 
an express train that made daily trips between two 
Western cities, reported that many birds were struck 
by the engine every day, and killed — often as many 
as thirty on a trip of sixty miles. Birds of many 
kinds were killed, but the most common was a bird 
that went in flocks, the description of which an- 
swered to the horned lark. Since then I have read 
in a Minnesota newspaper that many horned larks 
are killed by railroad locomotives in that State. It 
was thought that the birds sat behind the rails to get 
out of the wind, and on starting up in front of the 
advancing train, were struck down by the engine. 
The Michigan engineer referred to thought that the 
birds gathered upon the track to earth their wings, 
or else to pick up the grain that leaks out of the 
wheat-trains, and sows the track from Dakota to 
the seaboard. Probably the wind which they might 
have to face in getting up was the prime cause of 
their being struck. One does not think of the loco- 
motive as a bird-destroyer, though it is well known 
that many of the smaller mammals often fall be- 
neath it. 
38 
