"A-birding on a Broncho" is the title of a charming little book published some years ago, and probably better known to readers on the other side of the Atlantic than in England.

I remember reading it with pleasure and pride on account of the author's name, Florence Merriam, seeing that, on my mother's side, I am partly a Merriam myself (of the branch on the other side of the Atlantic), and having been informed that all of that rare name are of one family, I took it that we were related, though perhaps very distantly.

"A-birding on a Broncho" suggested an equally alliterative title for this chapter--"Birding on a Bike"; but I will leave it to others, for those who go a-birding are now very many and are hard put to find fresh titles to their books.

For several reasons it will suit me better to borrow from Cobbett and name this chapter "Rural Rides." Sore of us do not go out on bicycles to observe the ways of birds.
Indeed, some of our common species have grown almost too familiar with the wheel: it has become a positive danger to them.

They not infrequently mistake its rate of speed and injure themselves in attempting to fly across it.