46 SHORE LARK. 



plumage and song, and here I had an opportunity of studying its habits, 

 which I will now, kind reader, endeavour to describe. 



The Shore Lark breeds on the high and desolate tracts of Labrador, in 

 the vicinity of the sea. The face of the country appears as if formed of one 

 undulated expanse of dark granite, covered with mosses and lichens, varying 

 in size and colour, some green, others as white as snow, and others again of 

 every tint, and disposed in large patches or tufts. It is on the latter that 

 the Lark places her nest, which is disposed with so much care, while the 

 moss so resembles the bird in hue, that unles you almost tread upon her as 

 she sits, she seems to feel secure, and remains unmoved. Should you, how- 

 ever, approach so near, she flutters away, feigning lameness so cunningly, 

 that none but one accustomed to the sight can refrain from pursuing her. 

 The male immediately joins her in mimic wretchedness, uttering a note so 

 soft and plaintive, that it requires a strong stimulus to force the naturalist to 

 rob the poor birds of their treasure. 



The nest is imbedded in the moss to its edges, which are composed of fine 

 grasses, circularly disposed, and forming a bed about two inches thick, with 

 a lining of Grouse's feathers, and those of other birds. In the beginning of 

 July, the eggs are deposited. They are four or five in number, large, 

 greyish, and covered with numerous pale blue and brown spots. The young 

 leave the nest before they are able to fly, and follow their parents over the 

 moss, where they are fed about a week. They run nimbly, emit a sod peep, 

 and squat closely at the first appearance of danger. If observed and pur- 

 sued, they open their wings to aid them in their escape, and separating, make 

 off with great celerity. On such occasions it is difficult to secure more than 

 one of them, unless several persons be present, when each can pursue a bird. 

 The parents all this time are following the enemy overhead, lamenting the 

 danger to which their young are exposed. In several instances, the old bird 

 followed us almost to our boat, alighting occasionally on a projecting crag 

 before us, and entreating us, as it were, to restore its offspring. By the first 

 of August many of the young are fully fledged, and the different broods are 

 seen associating together, to the number of forty, fifty, or more. They now 

 gradually remove to the islands of the coast, where they remain until their 

 departure, which takes place in the beginning of September. They start at 

 the dawn of day, proceed on their way south at a small elevation above the 

 water, and fly in so straggling a manner, that they can scarcely be said to 

 move in flocks. 



This species returns to Labrador and the adjoining islands in the beginning 

 of June. The males are then so pugnacious and jealous of their females, 

 that the sight of one of their own sex, instantly excites them to give battle; 

 and it is curious to observe, that no sooner does one of these encounters take 



