BIRDS 
49 
strain rises. Two or three long, silver 
notes of peace and rest, ending in some 
subdued trills and quavers, constitute 
each separate song. Often you will catch 
only one or two of the bars, the breeze 
having blown the minor part away. Such 
unambitious, quiet, unconscious melody! 
It is one of the most characteristic sounds 
in Nature. The grass, the stones, the 
stubble, the furrow, the quiet herds, and 
the warm twilight among the hills are 
all subtilely expressed in this song; this 
is what they are at last capable of. 
The female builds a plain nest in the 
open field, without so much as a bush or 
thistle or tuft of grass to protect it or 
mark its site; you may step upon it, or 
the cattle may tread it into the ground. 
But the danger from this source, 1 pre¬ 
sume, the bird considers less than that 
from another. Skunks and foxes have a 
very impertinent curiosity, as Finchie 
well knows,—and a bank or hedge, or a 
rank growth of grass or thistles, that 
might promise protection and cover to 
mouse or bird, these cunning rogues 
would be apt to explore most thoroughly. 
