This species is resident and gregarious in the Argentine Republic, and in autumn frequently congregates in flocks of several thousands. They are not so universally distributed as the Chingolo, and are not wood-birds, but frequent open plains abounding in thistles and other coarse herbage, which affords them shelter. In cultivated districts, where their food is most abundant, they are excessively numerous, and, after the harvest has been gathered, frequent the fields in immense flocks. While feeding, the flocks scatter over a large area of ground, being broken up into small companies of a dozen or more birds, and at such times are so intent on their food that a person can walk about amongst them without disturbing them. They take flight very suddenly, bursting into a thousand chirping, scolding notes, pursue each other through the air, and, after wheeling about the field for a minute or two, suddenly drop down into the grass again and are silent as before. In August they begin to sing, here and there an individual being heard in the fields; but when the weather grows warmer they repair to the plantations in vast numbers, and, sitting on the branches, sing in a concert of innumerable voices, which produces a great volume of confused sound, and which often continues for hours at a time without intermission. By-and-by these pleasant choirs break up, the birds all scattering over the plains and fields to woo and build, and it is then first discovered that the male has a peculiar and very sweet song. Apart from his fellows, he acquires a different manner of singing, soaring up from his stand on the summit of a bush or stalk, and beginning his song the moment he quits his perch. Ascending, he utters a series of long, melodious notes, not loud, but very distinctly enunciated and increasing in volume; at a height of fifty or sixty yards he pauses, the notes becoming slower; then, as he descends with a graceful spiral flight, the wings outstretched and motionless, the notes also fall, becoming lower, sweeter, and more impressive till he reaches the earth. After alighting the song continues, the notes growing longer, thinner, and clearer, until they dwindle to the merest threads of sound, and cease to be audible except to a person standing within a few yards of the songster. The song is quite unique in character, and its great charm is in its gradual progress from the somewhat thick notes at the commencement to the thin, tremulous tones with which the bird returns to earth, and which change again to the excessively attenuated sounds at the end.