Walking through the field this afternoon, watching the clouds form and disolve over the mountains to the east, I heard the song of a meadowlark. I have rarely heard it in the mountains. Well, of course, it is called the meadowlark, not the forestlark. But when I used to wander through the undeveloped hills near my house in Los Angeles, I would hear this pleasant song frequently. I wonder what brings this bird here to shame the squawking jays with sweet notes?