The American Pipit 
inhibitory spell, cast upon some ancestor, perhaps, by one knows not 
what art of nodding heather bells or potency of subtly distilled Arctic 
moonshine. As the flock comes straggling down from Oregon they utter 
unceasing yips of mild astonishment and self-reproach at their apparent 
inability to decide what to do next. Their indecision is especially exas¬ 
perating as one rides along a trail which is closely flanked by a primitive 
rail fence, as I have often done in the Northland. One starts up ahead 
of you and thinks he will settle on the top rail and watch you go by. 
As his feet near the rail he decides he won't, after all, but that he will 
go a few feet farther before alighting. If he actually does alight, he 
instantly tumbles off with a startled yip, as though the rail were hot and 
he had burnt his toes. Then he tries a post, with no better success, until 
you get disgusted with such silly vacillation and inane yipping, and clap 
spurs to your horse, resolved to escape the annoyance of having to follow 
such dubious fortunes. 
In social flight the Pipits straggle out far apart, so as to allow plenty 
of room for their chronic St. Vitus’s dance to jerk them hither or thither or 
up or down, without clashing with their fellows. Only a small percentage 
of those which annually traverse the State fly low enough to be readily 
seen; but when they do they are jolting along over the landscape and 
complaining at every other step. The note is best rendered tlip-yip, less 
accurately pip-it (whence of course the name); and a shower of these 
petulant sounds comes spattering down out of the sky when the birds 
themselves are nearly or quite invisible. 
The fall migrations of this species appear to have a compound char¬ 
acter. Birds which make their appearance early in September are likely 
to quarter themselves in a given locality for several weeks at a time, 
though whether these represent the first refugees from the high North, 
or mark the practical retreat of the mountaineers from Shasta and the 
higher peaks of Oregon, we cannot tell. Late comers pass through more 
rapidly, and the main host clears northern California by early November, 
although stragglers may be found in any lowland situation until December 
and, sparingly, in the Sacramento Valley, throughout the winter. They 
are especially partial to prairies, close-cropped pastures, the gravelly 
shores and bars of rivers, lakes, and ponds, and the shingle of sea-beaches. 
The Pipit is probably the best distributed and most characteristic bird 
of our southern beaches in winter. At this season the flocks are more 
or less dispersed and individuals pay little attention, or none, to possible 
comrades. In these circumstances a Pipit is the special despair of all 
properly constituted bird photographers. The bird appears to get up 
from under your feet the first time, when of course you wer’n’t looking 
for him; but thereafter let one so much as focus a thought upon him and 
833 
