I remember the Meadowlark

The Meadowlark of Years Past by Earl Plato

I remember it well. Just a young lad at our Garrison Road home
My cat “Whitey” had brought back a dead bird and laid it near our chicken house. Thanks to the late naturalist Bert Miller I recognized the beautiful bird. It was a meadowlark. In the open fields to the west of us we had many meadowlarks and bobolinks.
You could hear the meadowlarks clear, mellow whistle - see-ya, see-your.
As we walked those fields we would hear a loud rattling warning note. Soon a meadowlark would rise up. I learned that the local farmer who cut the fields that had lots of clover destroyed many nests by mowing. We were told unless it was too late in the season they might nest again. Come fall migration time our meadowlarks would ban together in groups of around ten, Remember the bird’s breast, bright yellow crossed by a black “V”. See any lately? I did.