The Singing of Birds. E.P.Bicknell, 
Sturnella magna. Meadow Lark. 
1 hough the Meadow Lark gives us many months of its music, 
its song finds chief place in memory among the bird voices of 
earliest spring. Then flocks assemble in tall trees overlooking 
their favorite meadows, where the medley of their mingled songs 
is an agreeable change from the winter silence of the sere grass 
lands. ' & 
^ Often they are preceded in song only by the Bluebird and the 
Song Sparrow. I have known them to be singing by February 8 
(1880) ; but they do not often anticipate early March, and when 
it happens that they are not present at the breaking up of winter 
of course their song is not to be heard until they put in an 
appearance, which may not be till early April. 
I have no record of their singing later in the summer than the 
third week of August, and often they cease earlier. 
In the autumn, however, they have their voices again. In 1880, 
flocks in full song were noted from Octobor 10 to November 
7, and all my data of other years is comprehended by these 
dates. 
Auk, 2, July, 1886. p. J - X6~J 
S tz<yur\ 
Auk, XII, July, 1895, p 
The Western Meadowlark at Racine, Wise., etc. — In the April number 
of ‘The Auk’ (Vol. XII, p. 192) I find a communication from an observer 
in northern Michigan, if I remember rightly, recording the appearance 
there of the Western Meadowlark — Sturnella magna neglecta (Aud.). 
It was with much interest that I heard this bird was at Racine, 
Wise., where its note sounded strange enough, although I had long been 
familiar with it in California. Dr. Hoy, so well known in the North- 
west, some years ago reported “ this variety as occurring occasionally, 
| near Racine.” 
In this connection I should like to make mention of one of our eastern 
Meadowlarks ( Stur nella magna ) which I saw last spring in Connecticut, 
soaring in the air and singing like an English Skylark. I failed to iden- 
tify him until he dropped down a little distance away and became the 
unmistakable, every-day performer of our fields. 
s, 
^ ) 'n&siA f 
Here is a chapter on the meadow lark, written 
1 by a lady, from an indoor point of view — and, if 
| the Listener is not mistaken, from an involuntary 
I indoor point of view: 
“Is there anything to a bird-lover more tan 
| talking than to have a favorite or, still worse, a 
much desired acquaintance persistently remain 
just beyond one’s range of vision? For nearly an 
entire afternoon of shade and shower I have heen 
listenjng to what one would call a full chorus of 
mead^»;-larks. The music seems to come from 
every point of the compass ; yet, strive as I may, 
I : B0 glimpse of the singers can be obtained. As a 
1 | matter of fai t, the choir probably consists of a 
I : few birds only, for their song is so clear and pene- 
trating that it seems to fill the air, to be on all 
sides at once and close at hand when really far 
away. An hour ago two birds at unequal dis- 
tances were sing in alternation. With so great 
precision were their utterances timed that at first 
I believed one Strain toi»e,an echo of the other, 
hut after a time one. of the ? singers lost his reck- 
oning, the more distant song coming first, thus 
proving that there were two birds. 
“The, lark’s song is a clear, plaintive whistle, 
consisting of a few a<’tCS only, lnit tfeese con- 
stantly varying. Translated into the humah dia- 
lect, it may be expressed by ‘Oh please see me, 
mej or, .‘Please see me;’ or again, ‘Don’t you see 
me? see me?’ It is impossible to reconcile this 
apparent egotism with the modest and retiring 
disposition of the musician and the pathos of his 
tone ; vet in spite of this trifling inconsistency, the 
song is unique and charming. It is an unbroken 
succession of curves, ‘a single wave of melody,’ 
such as might be expected to issue from the throat 
of a bird which bears upon his yellow breast a 
beautiful black crescent. 
“Although for years familiar with this song, I 
have never really seen its author. One April day, 
an unknown bird suddenly appeared in one of the 
elms near by. Writing implements were instantly 
scattered in every direction and up flew the sash ; 
yet just as the writer’s eyes were fairly upon him 
away he flew, undulating through the air with his 
mate and alighting again too far away to be 
clearly seen, when he immediately began to pipe, 
‘Why— don’t— you— see me?’ The reDly is not 
recorded ! 
“The larks are very shy birds, and although 
abundant in the low fields of the vicinity thev 
rarely come near our buildings. This season they 
are unusually abundant and are frequently heard 
in the orchards. 
“Judging by their plumage and song, it is diffi 
cult to realize that they are so nearly related to 
1 he bobolink. Yet besides being genoricalty al- 
lied, these two species of starliugs have many 
traits in common ; and in peaceful comradeship 
hey inhabit the meadows beautified by ‘inno 
cence’ and the bird-foot violets, while in the 
neighboring swamps may be found their other 
cousins, the red-wings, whom Thoreau calls the 
‘epauletted officers’ of the bird brigade. Like 
his congeners, the iark often sings upon the wing, 
and on his journeys from one meadow retreat to 
another, his clear note occasionally falls upon 
one’s ear from above, like a sunbeam suddenly 
become audible. A song so melodious might well 
inspire a human poet, and one poem is so beauti- 
f nl that it merits quotation in full. 
“Hear the meadow lark sing low, 
Sweet and low! 
O’er the field and by the brook, 
Into every shady nook, 
Fast the plaintive echoes float 
From the little quivering throat, 
Till a new and tender grace 
Fills the peaceful, lonely place. 
So, my soul, learn thou to Sing, 
Daily sing! 
Though unnoticed be thy place, 
Clothed with only simple grace, 
From the meadow land, thy home, 
Let the tuneful echoes come, — 
For if love inspire each note, 
They will widen as they float; 
Do thou well th 8 singer’s parr, 
There will he a listening heart.” 
