THE CONDOR 
Vol. XIII 
other species. Afterwards, however, along Lake Creek, about forty miles to the 
southeast of my station, in a marshy valley about three miles wide, I found that 
the Eastern Meadowlarks were very abundant. In this valley the we.stern birds 
were very few, but on entering the low sand-hills that bordered the valley on the 
south, or the somewhat higher limestone hills that lay to the north, we came into a 
region where this species alone was to be seen and heard; positively never a 
feather of the eastern bird was ever met with out of the valley. 
Pensons having no special ornithological bent, but with a desire to know 
something of wild life in general, on coming to South Dakota from the east, have 
asked me with reference to the western lark, “What is this bird hereabouts that 
looks like our Eastern Meadowlark?” This inquiry indicates that the differences 
between the two birds are sufficiently great to enable those that make no pretense 
whatever of being versed in bird-lore to perceive readily that marked dissimilarities 
exist. And to the great majority, the bird of the east and the bird of the west will 
always be two entirely different birds, notwithstanding the fact that the American 
Ornithologists’ Union used to consider jie^lecta to be a mere subspecies, or varietal 
form, oi )iia^}ia. 
In the year 1902 my date for the arrival of the western meadowlark was 
March 22. The next day the weather turned cold and blustery, and so it con- 
tinued for several days; but the birds became immediately common. In 1903, when 
the spring was wintry and uninviting, I saw the first individual of this species on 
March 26. The Indians, however, reported having seen some of these birds on 
the preceding day, near the head of Medicine Root Creek, a few miles to the south- 
ward. By March 28 they were present in full force. 
The spring of 1904 was warm and dry, and on March 3 I saw a lone meadow- 
lark near my stacks. But again the irrepressible red men put forward claims of 
priority; they insisted that they had seen their birds some few days before. On 
March 6 I saw several individuals, but the species did not become abundant until 
about two weeks had elapsed. 
It was remarked that their song is highly variable, and indeed I am almost in- 
clined to state that no two individuals sing exactly alike. This is an illustration 
of the truth pointed out by Darwin that “secondary sexual characters are emi- 
nently liable to vary, both with animals in a state of nature, and under domestica- 
tion.” Such “contingencies are highly favorable to sexual selection.” And like 
wise, without doubt, this extreme variability of the melody is one circumstance 
that contributes toward rendering it so very pleasing to our ears, for the meadow- 
lark is one of the most admired of Dakota songsters. He runs in the yard with 
the hens, and ever and anon he perches upon 'a fence-post or shed to pour forth 
his melody, which no more admits of satisfactory description than does any other 
bird-lay. That courtship .song, less often heard, which is caroled forth by the 
male whilst on the wing, is one of the most beautiful sounds in all nature. 
The Oglala Sioux imagine that the Western Meadowlark talks to them in 
their own language. Rendered into Phiglish, some of the phrases which the ordi- 
nary song is fancied to resemble are, “My friend, I like the calf,” “Sister-in-law, 
comb my hair,” and “The lightening will kill you.” 
The last stragglers of the migrating hosts of meadowlarks seen in the autumn 
of 1901, were two birds noted on October 17. In 1903, September 12 brought 
snow, and following came about a week of wintry weather; thereafter the autumn 
was pleasant enough. My last date that year for the meadowlark was October 23, 
when a single bird was recorded. 
