tracted to the ground by the shrill piercing whistle of some bird. At first I could see nothing, but after taking a few steps, one flying up betrayed where the others were. I was not very close to them and did not get a good look at them, but they had a small sleek head, rather long graceful necks, around which in front was a blackband; their backs wings and tails were brownish,very much like the ground. They did not hop, but ran, as does a robin I moved closer and simultaneously they flew up, uttering their piercing whistling cries until they alighted further east in the field. Their flew as tho they had been struggling against a hard wind,and finally giving up, were letting themselves be blown along. I would have followed, but a rushing stream too wide to be jumped, barred the way. I felt disconsolate at not knowing what kind of bird they were and when the sweet song of some kind of sparrow came from a hedge nearby, because I did not know it, too I lost for a moment - but just for a moment - its sweetness. Its notes seemed to have been born of the dreamy sky, of the watery earth, and the pale sunshine.
     This fence I crossed. On the other the field, was