EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 227 
Returning about 5 P. M. across the Depot 
Field, I scare up from the ground a flock of 
about twenty birds which fly low making a short 
circuit to another part of the field. At first they 
remind me of bay-wings, except that they are in 
a flock, show no white in tail, are, I see, a little 
larger, and utter a faint sveet sveet merely, a 
sort of sibilant chip . Starting them again, I 
see that they have black tails, very conspicuous 
when they pass here. They fly in the flock 
somewhat like snow-buntings, occasionally one 
surging upward a few feet in pursuit of another, 
and they alight about where they first were. It 
is almost impossible to distinguish them upon 
the ground, they squat so flat, and so much re¬ 
semble it, running amid the stubble. But at 
length I stand within two rods of one and get 
a good view of its markings with my glass. 
They are the Alunda alpestris or shore lark, a 
quite sizeable and handsome bird. A delicate, 
pale, lemon-yellow^ line above, with a dark line 
through the eye. The yellow again on the 
sides of the neck and on the throat, with a buff- 
ash breast and reddish-brown tinges. Beneath, 
white. Above, rusty brown behind, and darker, 
ash or slate with purplish-brown reflections, 
forward. Legs black. Bill blue and black. 
Common to the old and new world. 
March 24, 1859. Now when the leaves get to 
