The Savanna Sparrows 



the choral fever is on they are all at it. The males will sing from the 

 ground rather than keep silence, although they prefer a weed-top, a 

 fence-post, or even a convenient tree. The female listens patiently, near 

 by, or if she tries to slip away for a bit of food, the jealous lover recalls her 

 to duty at once by an ardent chase. 



The nest is settled snugly in the dead grasses of last year's ungathered 

 crop, and is thus both concealed from above and upborne from below, and 

 is itself carefully done in fine dead grasses. 



The sitting bird does not often permit a close approach, but rises 

 from the nest at not less than thirty feet. The precise spot is, therefore, 

 very difficult to locate. If discovered, the bird will potter about with 

 fine affectation of listlessness, and seems to consider that she has done 

 her full duty in not showing the eggs. 



My first nest of these rather baffling birds was found near Goose 

 Lake on the ioth of June, 1912. I was traversing a big wire-grass 

 meadow when a male Savanna crossed my bows, settled at a hundred feet 

 by the edge of the water, and began to pick about with a preoccupation 

 which was a shade too intense. I paused and studied him carefully 

 until, unable longer to bear the strain of suspicion, the female burst 

 cover at twenty feet. I did not see exactly where she rose, but I knew I 

 had a warm scent, so I threw down my bandana (with which no proper 

 oologist goes unprovided) and began the search on hands and knees. 

 A particularly good-looking "cow-flop" tempted me to look ahead of 

 my proper and duller territory, and there, perfectly concealed by the 

 edge of the dung cushion, which was held aloof by the stiff grass, I found 

 a beautiful set of five dark eggs. The nest itself was merely resting upon 

 the surface of the damp earth, being stiffly supported all around by the 

 wire-grass. The female chipped solicitously, but remained out of sight; 

 while the male, whose zeal had done the mischief, sang diligently from a 

 distance of a hundred feet. 



"Nothing succeeds like success." Having found my first nest of 

 the Nevada Savanna Sparrow, I proceeded straightway to pick out 

 another. We were dragging the wire-grass on the shoreward side of 

 the beach ridge for ducks' nests, when a Savanna Sparrow flushed. 

 I didn't know within ten feet where the bird, presumably a male, rose; 

 but I chose a spot arbitrarily and looked about. An inviting example 

 of Minerva's handiwork lay close by, and this I seized forthwith, where- 

 upon a bird exploded from beneath, revealing as she fled a dainty nest 

 which contained two eggs and two young just hatched. I replaced the 

 cow-dropping, for experiment's sake, and found that it actually and com- 

 pletely covered the Sparrow's nest, leaving only room for passage between 

 the lip of the nest and the benign roof. One cannot forbear a chuckle 



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