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Updated: June 8, 2025
Besides being walkers, the larks, or birds allied to the larks, all sing upon the wing, usually poised or circling in the air, with a hovering, tremulous flight. The meadowlark occasionally does this in the early part of the season. At such times its long-drawn note or whistle becomes a rich, amorous warble.
He never fell in quickly with a new plan, no matter what it might be. And more than once he had made matters somewhat difficult for the Pleasant Valley Singing Society. He was hard to please. Being a very brilliant singer himself, he was never what you might call keen to take in a new member. When Mr. Meadowlark had told him about his idea Buddy Brown Thrasher gave a sharp whistle, "Wheeu!"
The Doctor smiled as he said: "Here is another case of mistaken identity very much like Dodo with her rare Meadowlark! This bird is a Kingfisher, who did not fall into the water, but dived in after the fish for which he sat watching." "So some wood birds eat fish, as well as the Osprey that we saw at the beach; but how do they chew them, Uncle Roy?" "They do not chew them.
Bobolink hastened to say that she wasn't musical. "Of course I enjoy hearing songs," she told him; "but I'm not much of a singer myself." "Your husband is one of the best," Mr. Meadowlark told her hopefully. "Yes!" she replied. "And sometimes I think he spends almost too much of his time practicing." "Oh, I can sing and work at the same time," Bobby Bobolink declared.
But they were so light-hearted that they started right away to sing for another lady in another part of the meadow. She was as like the first one as two peas in a pod. And Jasper Jay chuckled when he found out what was going on. He said he didn't believe they knew the difference. MR. MEADOWLARK was a great admirer of Bobby Bobolink.
Much as he liked to sing himself, he often remained silent when Bobby's joyous music tinkled over the grass-tops in Farmer Green's meadow. And as Mr. Meadowlark was listening to one of Bobby's best songs one day an idea popped suddenly into his head. He liked this notion so well that he flew straight across the meadow to a thicket on the edge of the woods.
Now it sounds faster and faster, 'like a whiplash flashed through the air, said my friend; up, up he soars, till he becomes lost to sight at the instant that his song ends in that last mad ecstasy that just precedes his alighting." The meadowlark sings in a level flight, half hovering in the air, giving voice to a rapid medley of lark-like notes.
Many of our most familiar birds, which are inseparably associated with one's walks and recreations in the open air, and with the changes of the seasons, are yet awaiting their poet, as the high-hole, with his golden-shafted quills and loud continued spring call; the meadowlark, with her crescent-marked breast and long-drawn, piercing, yet tender April and May summons forming, with that of the high-hole, one of the three or four most characteristic field sounds of our spring; the happy goldfinch, circling round and round in midsummer with that peculiar undulating flight and calling PER-CHICK'-O-PEE, PER-CHICK'-O-PEE, at each opening and shutting of the wings, or later leading her plaintive brood among the thistle-heads by the roadside; the little indigo- bird, facing the torrid sun of August and singing through all the livelong summer day; the contented musical soliloquy of the vireo, like the whistle of a boy at his work, heard through all our woods from May to September:
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