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Sept, 1915 CHARACTERIsTIc I?IRDS OI? THE DAKOTA PRAIRIES 177 gather along the woods and thickets of wild rose, silverberry, and thornapple, to eat the haws and berries. The straw stacks left unburned in the wheat fields may also afford them some food, but in severe weather the need of addi- tional supplies may well be felt. This need was recognized one winter by a farmer who, though having the reputation of being "the meanest man in the county," was met by a neighbor carrying a load of wheat to a self-feeding granary in the woods because he "could sleep better if he knew the Chickens had something to eat!" As the winter proved the worst in years he had good reason to rest better for his Samaritan act. Since then, we were told, the postal authorities have authorized the rural route mail-carriers to distribute corn supplied to them whether by individuals or the Fish and Game Commis- sion of the state. Another' characteristic bird of the prairies of which I saw all too little was the Upland Plover. One parent whom we passed when driving stood high in the prairie grass looking at us while just the head of its young one showed above the grass. Another plover surprised me, stanaing not on the ground but on top of a telephone pole, its round head and trim body mounted high on its long legs--true wader of meadows! On another day a guarding parent ap- peared in the blue sky ahead of us as we drove slowly up a long slope. Down it came toward us, its long wings on the down stroke giving it a curious wish- bone figure. Down it came, though not concerned with us as it proved, for, passing by, it took a wide sky circle on fluttering wings--while a Marsh Hawk heedless of its secret went serenely on its way looking for meadow mice. When the plover's liquid note is heard or the big birds come out of the sky to drop to earth, they give a rare thrill of pleasure. How much more were one fortun- ate enough to hear all their notes and watch their fascinating maneuvers. Lovely birds! They go well with the big clean prairie--dividing their time between earth and sky. Among the kindred spirits of the plains are the Longspurs, noted for their ecstatic flight song, birds that I had looked forward most eagerly to see- ing in North Dakota. But here again I was sorely disappointed for I reached only the eastern edge of their present range. The few Chestnut-collars that? I saw were in the old level valley of the Sheyenne River, as were most of the Horned Larks seen during the summer. The Longspurs were no disappoint- ment when found, striking birds perching on fences, showing their black chests, running along the road ahead of the horses showing their chestnut napes, or best of all springing up from the grass into the air to sing on fluttering wings their bright charming song suggestive of the jubilations of the Bobolink. How it made you want to stay and watch them! -Longspurs and Lark Buntings! Lucky the ornithologist who can visit their breeding grounds. The Longspurs. like the Burrowing Owl, have been driven out by the breaking of the prairie, it is said, which would explain their absence in the wheat belt where I spent the summer; for wheat and flax fields have restricted the prairie mainly to a few hillsides and grassed-over sloughs. In these scattered prairie islands the Bobolinks still find choice nesting grounds, spots of peculiar interest if you are new to prairies. From the top of one of the low swells you look down on great stretches of bluish green wheat with only round sunken islets of waving prairie grass. The unheaded wheat stands immobile on its sturdy stalks, but the long slender-stemmed prairie grass bows with every breath of the breeze--wavelets chase each other over the surface--and if you walk through the slough the sensitive grass sways and