dishonorable tricks which they did on the sly. For instance, they
never troubled themselves to make nests, but watched their chance to
sneak in and lay their eggs, only one in a place, in the nests of other
birds. For some reason their eggs always hatch a little sooner than
the eggs rightfully belonging there, consequently the foster-parents,
not knowing of the deception, are quite delighted with the first little
one that comes out of the shell, and immediately fly off to get food
for it. This is very unfortunate, for during their absence their own
eggs get cold and will not hatch. After a time the old birds grow
disgusted and tumble the poor eggs all out of the nest and bestow their
whole attention to the juvenile cowbird, entirely ignorant of the fact
that they are the victims of a "put-up job."

Once when we were dining in the pasture we found out the cause of the
booming noise we had often heard sounding through the woods. Two men,
each carrying in his hand a long club, shaped large at one end,
appeared in the meadow and began looking among the long grasses which
sheltered the nests of some meadow larks. A number of the larks were
on the wing, others sat on the rail fence rolling out cadenzas in
concert in a gush of melody from their downy throats. The men moved
cautiously nearer under cover of the weeds. Raising their long clubs
to their shoulders they gazed along their narrow points a moment.
Without exactly knowing why, we took alarm, and larks, bobolinks, and
cowbirds sped upward like the wind. At the same instant something
bright shimmered in the sunlight, and with it a horrid burst of noise
and a puff of smoke. We did not all get away, for some of the
beautiful larks fell to the ground pierced by the sportsman's deadly
hail.

Again and again, all through that long, sad day we heard the ominous