With the cowbirds we may expect the arrival of the bronzed grackles, which resemble them much in flight, but are larger and come in far larger flocks—sometimes ten, sometimes a hundred or more. Their arrival is known by the vigorous calls they utter while flying, a loud bass "jook." When seen squabbling in the spruce trees or in the bare branches of the willows fringing the streams, the males are likely to be giving their "song." It is scarcely more of a note than the cowbird's, a rusty squeak, and it is accompanied by a contortion in the same manner. It is not such a pronounced effort, however, and is often only a slight shudder and shrug of the shoulders. They feed, like cowbirds, mostly on the ground, and walk about most sedately in the grass like small crows. In tall grass, however, they waddle too much to be graceful. When taking flight they spread their long pointed tails in a very peculiar and characteristic manner—not out in a horizontal plane, like most birds, but up at the sides in the shape of a gardener's trowel, which gives them an extraordinary appearance.
The redwings begin to come into the marshes soon after the grackles, and are at that time in full feather and song. Their rich, deliberate "clonk-ka lrrrrrrr," interlarded with the clear piping whistles of some of the flock, makes a concert of bird-notes very dear to all who are familiar with it. In their scarlet and black velvet dress these birds are impossible to mistake, whether seen chasing over the marshes, singing from an elm-top, or balancing with spread tail upon some tall reed stalk.
There is a bird-note so often and so justly mistaken for that of the phœbe that the error certainly merits correction. The spring song of the chick-a-dee (which may be heard on almost any warm day all winter, and is very easy to call forth by even a poorly whistled imitation) is a clear, pure "eeeeee" or "—— —" which really says "Phœbe" much more plainly than the true phœbe note, this latter being much lower in tone, and only to be heard after March is well on, and almost always in the vicinity of running streams and brooklets; while the gay little chick-a-dee whistles at any time or place that suits his versatile fancy.
Fig. 179. Meadow larks.
The mellow flute notes of the meadow larks ([Fig. 179]) float to us from the middle of some large, open field, and are among the most beautiful bits of bird music we ever hear. They are not to be represented by notes, and can only be most inadequately described. There is great variation in the sequence of notes, but all are beautifully clear and ringing, and have a decided tinge of what would be sadness if it were not so sweet. The bird flies in a very characteristic manner, never raising the wings above the plane of the back, and when seen below the horizon line always shows the white feathers in the tail. His saffron breast and black breast-mark seldom show on the living birds, and the mottled brown back is a wonderful safeguard against his many overhead enemies.