which had
been shot by a neighbor," etc. Randolph pronounced it a flycatcher,
which was a good way wide of the mark. Jefferson must have seen only
the female, after all his tramp, from his description of the color;
but he was doubtless following his own great thoughts more than the
bird, else he would have had an earlier view. The bird was not a new
one, but was well known then as the ground-robin. The President put
Wilson on the wrong scent by his erroneous description, and it was a
long time before the latter got at the truth of the case. But
Jefferson's letter is a good sample of those which specialists often
receive from intelligent persons who have seen or heard something in
their line very curious or entirely new, and who set the man of
science agog by a description of the supposed novelty,--a description
that generally fits the facts of the case about as well as your coat
fits the chairback. Strange and curious things in the air, and in the
water, and in the earth beneath, are seen every day except by those
who are looking for them, namely, the naturalists. When Wilson or
Audubon gets his eye on the unknown bird, the illusion vanishes, and
your phenomenon turns out to be one of the commonplaces of the fields
or woods.

A prominent April bird, that one does not have to go to the woods or
away from his own door to see and hear, is the hardy and ever-welcome
meadow-lark. What a twang there is about this bird, and what vigor! It
smacks of the soil. It is the winged embodiment of the spirit of our
spring meadows. What emphasis in its "_z-d-t, z-d-t_," and what
character in its long, piercing note! Its straight, tapering, sharp
beak is typical of its voice. Its note goes like a shaft from a
crossbow; it is a little too sharp and piercing when near at hand,
but, heard in the proper perspective, it is eminently melodious and
pleasing. It is one of the major notes of the fields at this season.
In fact, it easily dominates all others. "_Spring o' the year! spring
o' the year!_" it says, with a long-drawn breath, a little plaintive,
but not complaining or melancholy. At times it indulges in something
much more intricate and lark-like while hovering on the wing in
mid-air, but a song is beyond the compass of its instrument, and the
attempt usually ends in a breakdown. A clear, sweet, strong,
high-keyed note, uttered from some knoll or rock, or stake in the
fence, is its proper vocal performance. It has the build and walk an