The Western Meadowlark 



delicieux of all the powers that prey, — skunks, weasels, minks, raccoons, 

 foxes, coyotes, snakes, jays, magpies, crows, and ravens; and if there 

 be any other power of darkness, be sure it has its hand in here. Hawks 

 and owls otherwise blameless in the bird-world, err in respect to the 

 Meadowlark — the game is too easy. Even the noble Peregrine does not 

 disdain this humble, albeit toothsome, quarry; and the Kestrel (Cerchneis 

 sparverius) will stoop for a young Meadowlark when all other avian 

 offerings are virtuously passed by. 



Fecundity then is the only recourse, — this, and concealment. Not 

 relying altogether upon its marvelous protective coloration, the lark 

 exhibits great caution in approaching, and, if possible, in quitting its 

 nest. In either case it sneaks along the ground for a considerable distance, 

 threading the mazes of the grass so artfully that the human eye can follow 

 with difficulty, or not at all. At the approach of danger a sitting bird 

 may either steal from her nest unobserved and rise at a safe distance, or 

 else seek to further her deception by feigning lameness, after the fashion 

 of the Shore-birds. Or, again, she may cling to her charge in desperation, 

 hoping against hope till the last possible moment, and taking chances of 

 final mishap. In this way a friend of mine once discovered a brooding 

 Meadowlark imprisoned underneath his boot — fortunately without dam- 

 age, for she occupied the deep depression of a cow-track. 



To further concealment the grass-lined depression in which the 

 Meadowlark places her four or five speckled eggs is almost invariably 

 over-arched with dried grasses. This renders the eggs practically in- 

 visible from above, and especially if the nest is placed in thick grass or 

 rank herbage, as is customary. Touching instances of blind devotion 

 to this 'arch' tradition were, however, afforded by a sheep-swept pasture 

 in the North. Here the salt-grass was cropped close and the very sage 

 was gnawed to stubs. But the Meadowlarks, true to custom, had 

 imported long, dried grasses with which to overarch their nests. As a 

 result, one had only to look for knobs on the landscape. By eye alone 

 we located six of these pathetic landmarks in the course of a half-hour's 

 stroll. 



One brood is usually brought off in March or April, and another by 

 the first of June. Although Meadowlarks are classed as altricial, i. e. 

 having young helpless when hatched, and which require to' be nurtured 

 in the nest, the young Meadowlarks are actually very precocious, and 

 scatter from the nest four or five days after hatching, even before they are 

 able to fairly stand erect. This arrangement lessens the chances of 

 wholesale destruction, but it would appear to complicate the problem 

 from the parental standpoint. How would you, for instance, like to 



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