THE MEADOW LARK. 71 



overflowing with love towards her who had led him thus far, he rises from 

 his grassy couch, and on gently whirring pinions launches into the air, in the 

 glad hope of finding the notes of his beloved fall on his ear. The male is 

 still on the wing; his notes sound loud and clear as he impatiently surveys 

 the grassy plain beneath him. His beloved is not there. His heart almost 

 fails him, and, disappointed, he rises towards the black walnut-tree, under 

 which, during many a summer's heat, the mowers have enjoyed both their 

 repast and their mid-day rest. I now see him, not desponding as you might 

 suppose, but vexed and irritated. See how he spreads his tail, how often he 

 raises his body, how he ejaculates his surprise, and loudly calls for her whom 

 of all things he best loves. — Ah! — there comes the dear creature; her 

 timorous, tender notes announce her arrival. Her mate, her beloved, has 

 felt the charm of her voice. His wings are spread, and buoyant with glad- 

 ness, he flies to meet, to welcome her, anticipating all the bliss prepared for 

 him. Would that I could interpret to you, reader, as I feel them, the many 

 assurances of friendship, fidelity and love that at this precious moment pass 

 from the one to the other, as they place their bills together and chatter their 

 mutual loves! — the gentle chidings of the male for the sorrow her delay has 

 caused him, and the sweet words she uses to calm his ardour. Alas! it were 

 vain to attempt it. I have listened to the talk, it is true; I have witnessed 

 all their happiness; but I cannot describe it to you. You, reader, must 

 watch them, as I have done, if you wish to understand their language. If 

 not, I must try to give you a taste of what I would willingly impart, were 

 I competent to the task, and proceed to relate what I have observed of their 

 habits. 



W T hen the Meadow Lark first rises from the ground, which it does with a 

 smart spring, it flutters like a young bird, then proceeds checking its speed 

 and resuming it in a desultory and uncertain manner, flying in general 

 straight forward, and glancing behind as if to ascertain the amount of its 

 danger, but yet affording an easy aim to the most inexperienced marksman. 

 When pursued for awhile, it moves more swiftly, sailing and beating its 

 wings alternately, until it gets out of reach. It will not stand before the 

 pointer longer than a moment, and that only when surprised among rank 

 weeds or grasses. During its migrations, which are usually performed by 

 day, it rises above the tallest forest trees, passing along in loose bodies, and 

 not unfrequently in flocks of from fifty to a hundred individuals. At such 

 times its motions are continued, and it merely sails at intervals, to enable it 

 to breathe and renew its exertions. Now and then, one may be seen making 

 directly towards another, chasing it downwards or horizontally away from 

 the group, uttering all the time a sharp querulous note, and keeping up the 

 pursuit for a distance of several hundred yards, when it suddenly abandons 



