WILLIAM W£SLE'

c. y./y

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bl.

r^

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-■'T>fi^

OUR NATIVE SONCSTRliS,

\\\ ANNE PRATT,

Atrrnua ov '* cumm<»» tiiiso!* ».f tiik ska-side,'

" WILD fUiWKKA,'* «TC.

rOBLUIlKD mDBR TIIK IlKl.<Tl<'N OF

TUB COMIIITrEB Of OKHKIUL LITKRATtKB AMD »PUCAT1«jK,

APromTBD BT TUB HOCIKTI FOR rRUMOTIBQ

CURISTIAM BMUWLKDOB.

LONDON

SOCIETY FOR PUOMOTINO CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE

SOLD AT TUB DBP08IT0BT,

GBXAT QUBB!< STBKET, LIMOOLRS IHJt riBLD« ,

♦, BOTAL BXCnAMGB; 16, IIA>0^-BB 8TRBET, HAHOTBB SQUAKB ;

AKD BT ALL BOOUBLLBR8.

1853.

LONDON :
E. CLAY, PKINTEB, BREAD STREET HILL.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

PAGE

Music of iN at urc— Common Thrush — Solitary Thrush— Winter
Woods — Missel Thrush — Blackbird — I'sofulness of Blackbird —
Rinf? Ou7,cl—Dip|>er— Pastor Ouzel — Fieldfare — Redwing— Birds
practising their Songs — (iolden Oriole 1

CIIAITER II

I^autv of Siiniig -\ iirious Appcaninces of Nature — Time of Nest-
building — Nest* of various Birds — Patience of the Mother-bird
during Incubation — Affection of Parent Birds for their Young —
Hedge Sparrow — Associations connected with Singing of Birds —
Alpine Accentor — Chiff-Chaff: Taraeness in Captivity — Yellow
Wn-n — Attiichmcnt of Birds to their Nests — Wood Warbler —
Dartford Warbler— Gold-Crest : great Beauty of its Nest — Fire-
jrrcsted Regulus — Common Wren — Old Traditions respecting
Wren — Cruel Superstition respecting Wren in Ireland — Devices
of Wren for concealing its Nest — Great value of Wren in destroy-
ing Insects and their Larv;i, — Singular Practice in European
Countries of terming the Wren " King" 56

2091107

KKi

iv CONTENTS.

CHAPTER III.

PAG

Beauty of Streams and their Margins— Flowers and Birds peculiar
to these Places— Sedge Warbler— Its Power of Imitating otlier
Birds— Reed Warbler— Beauty of its Nest— Grassliopper Warbler
—Ventriloquising Power of this Bird— Pied Wagtail— Continental
Species of Wagtail— Cuckoo placing its Egg in Nest of Wagtail
—Grey Wagtail— Yellow Wagtail

CHAPITER IV.

Summer and the Cuckoo— Nightingale — Song joyous or sad-
Opinions of Poets — Description of its Song— Jealous Character
of this Bird— Blackcap— AlTection of this Bird to its Young and
to Man— Garden Warbler— Wliitethroat—Tjosser Wliitothroat . . VM

CHAPTER V.

Our Heath-lands during M' inter and Spring— Wheatcar—Singukr
Note— Autumnal Flight — Numbers taken in Traps — Stonechat —
Whinchat— Successful Imitation by Whinchat of Songs of other
Birds 167

CIIAITEU VI.

Notes of various Birds in Autumn — Rc<ibrcast's Antumnal Song-
Familiarity of this Bird with Man— Song at other Sfuwns of the
Year — Robin a favourite Bird in many European Countries-
Old notion that it strewed with lieaves the I^xlirs of tho I'n- .
Iniried — Il^'ferenccs to <H;TtTil old Authors rrspcrtinjr this —
Pugnacity of the Robin — Redbreast useful in (ranlrns and
Orchards — Singular Plaee.s chosen by this Bird fur Building
l\ed.Nlart : Attachment to its Young— Bluc-thmatcd Warbler I * '

CONTENTS.

CUAITEK VII

I'AGE

LtifrrliiiiU'vs ;ri\«-ii to A iiods I)y t'all-nuU's ami Actniiis <il vrvrious
liinU- Circat Titmouse — Blue Tit— Cole Tit— I>>ng-tailc(l Tit—
CnnuToriJUs I'niprnRitio of Titmice and Shrikes — (Jreat Gify
Shrike — Hutchrr liirJ — Former Vie of this Uinl in Falconry —
Ilrd-haeked Shriko more common, and Ijetler Singer — Habit of
impaling Insect* on Thorns 20U

CIUiTER VIII.

Adaptation of ditTcrent Hirds to vanoos Place* — Winter m th«
Fields — Skylark — Afecting locideat respecting it* Soivg' — Great
Tower of Vision in Birds— I'eculiarity of Eye and K>elid— I^rk
Fowling— Anecdote of Affection of Ijuk for its Youngs W(MKllark
— ()Id English Names of Bird— Meadow Pipit — Tree Pipits— Uixk
l*ipit— llichard's Pipit — Yellow Ammer — Com Bunting — Cirl
Bunting — Snow Bunting — Common, or Ilouae Sparrow — Trw
Sparrow

CHAITER IX.

...iji.i...i i-vuij. Ml oit Bird — Use in prereiiting the Growth of
Weeds— Siskin — Gentle Nature of the Bird — Bramhling — Chaffinch
— I'scs of InscctiToroos Birds in general — Great Number of
Inarrta, even in Britain — Various Songs of Chaffinch, duscribcd
by a German — Fitness of Bird for Hight, in ita Wings and in its
whole Structure— Common lannet — Changes of Plumage —
I'eaoeabic Character of the Bird— Cleanliness of Birds — Mountain
Linnet— Lesser Kedple — Mealy Linnet— Green Unnet — Haw-
finch—Cross-bill , l-^rly Building Bird — Singular Construction of
Bill— Mischievous Habits of Bird — SuiK-rstition resfiecting Cross-

VI CONTENTS.

PAGE

bill in Thuringia— Bullfinch— Schools at Hesse and Fulda for
Training Bullfinches — Natural Intelligence of the Bird— Bullfinch
commits Depredations in Gardens 2GG

CHAPTER X.

The Swallow Tribe — Pleasing Associations connected with Coming
of Swallows — Graceful Movements of Common Swallow — Great
Value to us in destroying Insect Tribe — Autumnal I\ligTation —
Chattering, and Chirping, and Call-notes of Birds, understood by
each other — Rapid Flight of Swallow Tribe — Nest and Building
Places of Common Swallow — Martin — Sand Martin— Swift : pro-
bably the Swallow mentioned by David — Oriental Type in Heraldry
—Short Stay in our Island 325

LIST OK PLATES,

AND IJIUECTIONS FOR PLACING THEM.

Thrush

Mi«»cl Thrush . . .
IMackbird . . . .
IlinR Ouzel ...
Water OujEcl
Fieldfare
Uedwing . .
(tolden Oriolr . .
Chiff-chaff . . .
Hedge Warl)lcr
Aljiine Accentor
Willow Wren . .
Woo<l Wri'ii . . .
Dart ford Warbler
Oolden-crested Wn-n

Wren

SedK'e Warbler . .
Heed Warbler .
Grasshopper Warbler
Pied Wagtail . . .
Grey Wagtail . .
Yellow Wagtail

PAGE

to face 1
20
20
34
38
46
•18
53
70
C6
69
77
81
83
S6
!'3
lOS
112
11.^
lltf
120
129

'^lightingale . .

Blackcap . . .
"^Garden Warbler
^^Whltethroat
^t/esser Whitethroat
' Wheatear
/ Stonechat
I ^ 'Whinchat
I •' Redbreast
;^ Redstart .
VBIue-throatcd WarbU
M Greater Titmouse
v^lue Titmouse
v' Marsh Titmouse .
, Cole Titmouse . .
I Bearded Titmouse

Long-tailed Titmou
, Great Grey Shrike .

Red-backed Shrike

Woodchat . . .

Skylark

Woodlark

PACE

to face 131
. . . 147

I.S6

IGO

IGi

171

174

178

184

201

207

210

. 213

. . if>.

214

iO.

ib.

21G

... 222

... 225

.227

. . 238

LIST OF I'LATFii, AND DIRECTIONS FX)]l PLACING TDEM.

PACE

^ Meadow Pipit

. to fare 242

Tree Pipit .

IMS

^Rock Pipit .

.'47

-Richard's Pipit

250

-'Yellow Uuntiii);

rT,.

Com BuntinK

■>:,\

« Reed BuntinK

ill.

*- CIrl BuntinK

L'iS

t Lapland Buntini'

:'i6

» Snow BuntinK

• A.

' Sparrow .

258

* Tree Sparrow

t.

.'Goldfinch

• SUkin .

27.')

Brambling
ChafTinrh
Linnet

Mountain Liniut
Lesser Rcdpolc
Mealy Linnit
(Jn-en Fintli
Hawfinch
Crotitbill . .
Bull Finch
Swallow .
Martin
Sand Martin
Swift .

PACil

lo face 2Sn

.MS

OUK NATIVE SONGSTERS.

ClIAPTKIl I.
rnRUsnES — dlackbirdss — fikldfare — redwing —

GOLDKN ORIOLE.

All untnrc is full of music. Gentle winds whis-
jKT it as they rustle throii^^h the summer leaves;
and the autumnal pralc wakens loudtT and wilder
melodies as it iKiwsdown the branches of the forest
trees. The tricklinj^ waterfall and the pattering
rain-drops arc musical ; and ri])pling streams and
dashing: waves send forth sweet or ^^rand harmonies.
All inanimate nature seems pourini^ forth its anthem
from earth to heaven.

Hut if tliis is the ease with rinwin;^ waters and
careering winds, how is it more esj>ecially so witli
utterances which convey the inward feeling. How
mu-^ical are the tones of the human voice, not
alone when expressed in song, but when used to

B

2 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

tell of gentle emotion, to soothe or to persuade ;
or when, raised into powerful energy, tliey flow
in torrents of eloquence. And the singing of
birds, how sweet is it to the listening ear ! These
joyous creatures seem made to render the wood-
land, or the quitt meadow, or the stream side, a
scene of repose and recreation from the toils and
cares of human life. The "beautiful description of
Spring, given by the sacred wTiter, is as applicable
to our country as to Palestine. '* The winter is
])ast, the rain is over and gone ; the tlowers appear
on the earth, the time for the singing of birds is
come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our
land." We listen to the song with wcaider. AVe
know that no human instrument can attain tli«
compass of tliat strain, or catch the tones of tliat
sweet, but irregular melody ; that were we to
measure our vocal |)ower8 with those of the little
bird, our voice would be lost in the woodland,
which echoes tar and near wivh his music. Like
all the sounds of Nature, it has its variations,
telling sometimes of joy and gladness, and anon
seeming, as it is uttered in the minor key, so
plaintive and tender, that we can only compare it
to the wailing wind, or to the touching lament of

TIIK THRUSH. 3

human sorrow. Tt is well, if, while listening to
the W(t«Hlland minstrels, we can find ourselves
earned away tor awhile from earthly thouglits and
memories, an<l can t'ccl as did the good Isaac Wal-
tnii. \\v who looked with such delight on green
fields, was gladdened, too, by the song of the
hirds. *' The nightingale,'' he says, " another of
my airy creatures, breathes such sweet, loud
nmsicke out of her instnnnental throat, that it
mii^dit make mankind to think miracles are not
ceased. He, that at midnight, when the very
lal>ourer sleeps securely, should hear, as 1 have,
very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the
natural rising and falling, the doubling and re-
doubling of her voice, might well be lifted up above
cjirth, and say, Lord, what musicke hast thou ])ro-
vided tor the saints in heaven, when thou affordest
bad men such musicke on earth ! "

Among our native birds there are none which
have greater powers of song than the Merulida?,
or Thrush tribe, and they are, too, among our
earliest singers. The common thrush {7\(rilus
mwficius) may often be heard singing on a clear day
in Febniary, and its song, which accjuircs p^eater
strength and fulness as the sprhig advances, is

4 OUR .\atim: songsters,

continued, at intcn'als, till July.*' A very sweet
song it is, and one heard by all who hve in thf
country; for the thnish is found eveiy^vhere in
our woods, and often builds its nest by our very
doors, rearing its young in the holly, or arbutus.
of the garden, or among the ivy-leaves wliich
screen the house wall. But this song is Iieard to
best ailvanta;^!' wlu-n a number of thrushes sing
in thf evening together, among the trees, when
the clionis is so rich and melodious, that all must
listen to it with delight. Although the song
always partakes (»f the same character, yet it is
sufficiently dit^i-rent in individuals, fur a goo<l
musical ear to detect tlie singing of some one
favourite thrush, which may, year after year, build
in the same place. Often, too, it seems to arti-
culate words quite distinctly. ThiLS, Mr. Broderip
menticMis one which, in the course of its singing,
expressed sounds which fell on the ear as if it
were repeating the words, '' ^ly dear— my prett\
dear— my pretty little dear " — which sounds weri

• The Song-thru8h is abont nine inched) in length. The whol<-
upper pnrts are dark br»)wn ; the throat, aides, an<l breast, jialc
yellowish oraugc; the chin and the belly ore white; the whole
lower i>art3 nmrkod with triangnlar sput.s of dark brxjwn, arrangM
in chaiiitt ; the book and feet are pale brown.

THE TURUSU. 5

heard by others as well as himself. Mr. Knapp,
too, listened to one which frequented a copse, and
which after a certain round uf tune, " trilled out
most repilarly some notes that conveyed fo clearly
the words * Lady-hird ! lady-Lird !' that every one
marki'd the rcsenihhince. lie survived the win-
ter," adds the naturalist, " and in the ensuin-
spring, * Lady-bird ! lady-bird !' was still the bur-
den of our evening song ; it then ceased, and we
never heard this jiretty mmlulation more. Though
merely an rxicasiunal strain, yet I have noticed it
ebewhcre— it thus appearing to l>c a favourite
utterance.'

We do not wonder, as wo hearken to the thrush's
ftOng, that it should always be a favourite one with
the poet and the lover of nature. Chaucer, who,
as has U-en remarked, " seems of all poets to have
Ix-cn the f.mdest of the singing of birds," and who
wtis entranced by them as they sang from the green
leiives " with the voice of angels," seems to liave
delighted in tliat of our early bird, when he com-
pared the human voice to its music : —

•• Swoie hifl tongue tw the throstle's note,"

Graham, too, has well described both bird and
minstrelsy : —

OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

*' The Thrasb's song
Is varied as his plumes ; and as hi.s plumes
Blend beauteous, each with each, so run his notes
Smoothly, -with many a happy rise and fall.
How prettily upon his jmrded breast
The vividly contrasting tints unite
To please the adnuring eye ; so loud and soft,
And high and low, all in his notes combine
In alternation sweet to charm the ear."

The French temi tlic tliru.she.^, Jes Gri'ves, from
r/rive, speckled, because of their mottled breast.
Our 8ong-thrush, however, is tlic Claris of the
Scotch, and the Singdrossel of tlie German.'*, the
Throstle of our English ]»oets, and the small Mis.«*el-
thrush of some ornithologists. It is sometimes
kept in cages f<^r its song, and this may often be
heard far otf, as it comes sounding through the
busy street, when perched on high, at some
window, the thrush carols his morning lav. It is
said to live for six or eight yeors in a cage. Per-
chance its song may soothe some one to whom on
the sick couch it brings a tune of green wootls.
Perchance, to some mechanic, who toils in the
busy city, it bears a memory of early days, passed
in the country, when lie can no longer Avander to
hear it among the green boughs. From such we

THE THRUSH. 7

would not witlilioM it ; yet surely tlie caged bird,
made as it was with wings to fly, may claim some
pity as we remember how all its natural Impulses
must lead it to yeani for the green shadows,
the ready wing, and the notes of its old com-
panions.

Hapj)ily for our native thrushes, however, they
may sing on, without danger of being seized to
contribute to the luxurious diet of the epicure.
Several birds of the thrush family arc nuicli in
request on the Continent fur food. The Italians
sell them in their markets, and highly prize them,
at the period when, having eaten hgs and grapes,
their flesh is said to be very highly flavoured.
Thrushes are very plentiful, during the vintage
season, on the southern coast of the Baltic. Klein,
who observes that there are, probably, more snares
laid for these birds than for any others, mentions
that the city of Dantzic alone consumes, every
year, eighty thousand pairs of thrushes. It has
been observed, in countries where they feed upon
grapes, that, dm-ing the season at which the fruits
are ri})e, the thrushes are easily taken, having
perhaps become inactive through repletion.

The common song-thrush was, doubtless, one of

8 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

the species which were regarded by the Komans
as the choicest of feathered game ; and many a
sweet chorus of song in the trees of the Roman
villas and gardens led to the capture of the
singers. Extensive aviaries were formed around
the ancient city, in which thrushes, blackbirds,
fieldfares, redwings, and other birds of this family,
were kept during the whole year, that they might
be prepared for the table. A vaulted pavilion
formed the aviary ; this was furnished with
perches. A carpet was made of green turfs,
often renewed, and branches were strewed over
the floor. Hire, crowded together in great num-
bers, the birds were well fed ; and, lest some
wandering wing might be seen, and thus awaken
a longing for the green wood, the windows were
so placed as that the little captives might receive
light without a sight of the blue sky or the sur-
roimding country. A clear rivulet ran through
the aviary, in order to gratify their love of
bathing ; and here the petted birds sang and ate
till they were fitted to gratify the taste of tlic
luxurious Roman. It may be, that tlie ej)icure jius-
titii'd his appetite for singing birds on the ground
of the invigorating nature of the flesh of the

THE THRUSH. 9

tlirushes; for tlicir writers tell of its power to
fltren^hen the frame; adding, that if eaten to
excess, it could not injure. Horace, as well as
f)ther poets, praises the diet.

As we might infer from the early singing of
the thrush, it is an early builder. It usually
begins its nest in March, and by the end of
April, or the beginning of ^lay, the first brood
is ready to U'ave the nest. Although the thrush
Bcems to have little notion of protecting itself
during the winter from the cold, as it usually
roosts, with other small birds, in the open hedges,
yet it well knows how to shield its egi^^s and
young from the bitter winds of the early spring-
time. The nest, which is composed externally of
moss and fine roots, has a compact inner surface,
lined with a coating of cow-dung and decayed
wood, so ingeniously worked in together, as that
it will even hold water. This structure is usually
placed in some low bush, as the honey-suckle or
hawthorn, or in one of the garden cvergi-eens, and
contains four or five eggs, of a pale blue gi'ound,
with small spots of black. Every schoolboy
knows the thrush's Qg^i^, for they may be seen
continually strung and hmig up in the farm-house

10 OUR NATIVE SONGSTEES.

or cottage, save where the old superstition yet
lingers, that if they are kept over Sunday, the
housewife will rue it in her brc»ken crockery. So
little fear of man has the thrush, that it some-
times builds in places where its nest cannot fail
to be seen by the inmates of tlie house; and in-
stances are known in which the little dwclHng has
been made in outbuildings where workmen have
been daily employed.

Every one who has a garden has good reason to
welcome the thrush there, not for its song only, but
for its active services. It is tnie that this bird will
not scruple to help itself to the ripest cherry, or
to the finest goosebeny on the bougli, but on the
other hand, no bird is more skilful in ridding the
garden of the snails and slugs, whicli destroy alike
the loveliest flowers, and the finest fruits. All
the thrushes, as well as the blackbirds, make great
havoc among the snails ; but the missel- thi-ush,
like the blackbird, is not nearly so skilful in shel-
ling them as is the common thrush: and it is
said, by Mr. Blyth, to commence its operations
by endeavom'ing to pull the snail from its shell.
This it finds difficult, and it is at last obliged to
break the shell as well as it can, so that, as this

THE THRUSH. 11

writer observes, "a song-tbrusli will devour five
or six snails before a blackbird can swallow one."
Tlie season in wbicli tliey consume tbe greatest
number of these animals is in winter, after a night
or two of severe weather, when the gi'ound is
crisp and hard with fmst, and is glittering in the
sun-lR'am, as if strewed with diamonds. A writer
in the ^lagazine of Katural History says, "In
winter, alter a nii^dit or two sharply frosty, with
just a sprinkling of snow on the ground, it is
pleasing to stroll beside hedgerows, and sec the
Turdi* starting in and out on the face of the
hedge-banks, and between the base of the stems
of the hedges, in search of snails. If you proceed
slowly, a smart reiterated ta])ping, not loud, but
obvious, is heard at uncertain intervals, as the
Turdi may find their i)rey ; this they break, not
wherever found, but on some stone, iixed iirmly,
with one face exposed in the bank-side, and, 1 think,
station themselves below the stone. 1 have, in
my vocabulary, called such stones chosen of the
thrushes, the thiiishes' chopping-blocks." The
same writer observes, that the thrushes also con-
sume a great number of snails during July and

• The generic name of the thrushes and blackbirds.

12 OUR ^'ATIYE SOXGSTERS.

August, when tliey explore hedge-rows, orchards,
and gardens, with great vigilance. At this season,
he remarks that they do not usually break the
shell in pieces, but peck a hole through the last
and larger coil. In summer, as well as during
winter, numerous pieces of snail-shell may be
found strewed about in gardens, the remnants of
the thrushes' meals. The song-thrush, too, has
been seen to break the shell against a barrow,
when a large stone was not quite near. It will
also feed on the earthworm, and it is amusing to
watch a number of these birds, hopping about
singly, popping the head foi-w^ard with the motion
peculiar to them of three jumps, and seizing their
prey, which they swallow whole. They are also
very partial to the beautiful scarlet ben-ies that,
during autumm, cluster on the boughs of the
mountain-ash.

The thrush remains with us all the year, receiv-
ing great accessions at the a?itumnal season, from
numbers which come from the north, with the
fieldfares and redwings. They do not fly in
flocks, but are generally found near together.
Even in winter their sweet songs may be heard ;
and a throstle has been heard to sing on Christmas-

THE THRUSn.

13

Day, wlillc its song is truly the herald of spring ;
for, even before a violet lias peeped forth, it is
becoming frequent in every wood. Calder Camp-
bell, in an unpublished poem, describes its early
singing among the trees.

" A taste of winter in the murky town

Drove me to seek for shelter in the fields,
But leafless trees, and pastures damp and brown,
Gave little promise of what spring-tide yields.

The lanes were rugged for the want of leaves,
And green things saw I not, save one alone.

The generous ivy, that o'er bareness weaves
Its gi-aceful wreath to cover tree and stone.

Yet winter had expired : where yesterday

Keen snow-drift powder'd every way-side thing,

The balmy dew gleam'd in the sun's glad ray.

To scatter pearls where red-tippd woodbines cling.

It is the spring ! for, lo ! unfolded yet-
Where pale-green buds peep from the elm-tree boughs,

And where rich sulphur-tmted flowers are set
Around the alight stalks of the first primrose.

It is the spring I I hear her first glad song !

I see her earliest bird, the speckled thrush !
His descant rich swells sweet yet loud along.

And makes a vocal bower of every bush.

Oh, welcome Spring ! oh, welcome vernal flowers !

Oh, welcomer than all, the merry bird
Whose warbling music— earnest of bright hours,

Is the first hymn to Sprmg by wandering poet heard."

14 OUR tsatrt: songsters.

The thrusli, though not so endearing to man
when in captivity, as are many caged songsters,
yet is not wanting in love to its kind. The
parent birds both share in the work of incubation,
and are very assiduous in the care of their young.
Mr. Knapp mentions an instance of tliouglitt'ul
care in a thrush which is very interesting. " We
observed, tliis summer," says tliis writer, " tvvo
common thrushes frequenting the shnibs on the
green in our garden. From the skMiderncss of
their forms, and the freshness of their phmiage,
we pronounced them to be birds of tlie preceding
summer. There was an association and fiieiulsliip
between them that called our attention to their
actions. One of them seemed ailing, or feebk^
from some bodily accident ; for tliougli it lio])ped
about, yet it appeared unable to obtain sufficiency
of food. Its companion, an active sprigiitly bird,
would frequently bring it worms or bruised snails,
when tliey mutually partook of the banquet : and
the ailing bird would wait patiently, understand
the actions, expect the assistance of the otlier,
and advance from his asylum upon its ajiproach.
This procedure was continued for some days ; but
after a time, we missed the fostered bird, which,

THE THRUSH. 15

probably, died, or by reason of its weakness met
with some fatal accident."

The thrush is very fond of bathing, and when
the morning sun gilds the clear rivulet, the bird
goes down to the water, luxuriating in its
delights ; and often several wild thrushes may be
seen thus conuneneing the day in company.
Bechstein remarks that it is at the borders of
streams that the fowlers catch them most readily,
In'some cases they employ a tame bird, which runs
and flutters on the banks of the water, and serves
as a decoy to the wild thrushes. He observes
that the fowlers should be in no haste to take
them, for that the thrushes like to bathe to-
gether to the number of ten or twelve at once;
and no sooner has a thrush found a bath to its
liking, than it Wgins the call which assembles its
companions. It would seem that the sight of the
bath gives the bird great joy, for it utters the cry of
'' 8ik, sik, sik, siki, tsac tsac tscac," which is im-
mediately responded to by many voices of gladness.
The thriLshes, however, seem to be very cautious
in their proceedings, for they seldom venture into
the water until the more courageous robin red-
breast has already tried it ; though no sooner has

16 OUR NA.TIVE SONGSTERS.

one thrush commenced the ablution, than the rest
follow, quarrelling among themselves if the stream
is narrow, or so filled up with water-plants as not
to afford space for the accommodation of the
whole party.

Our song-thrush inhabits every country in
Europe, frequenting gardens and woods near
streams or meadows. It is the Petite Grive of
the French : tlie Tordo Bottaccio of the Italians ;
and the Aderyn tronfraith of the ancient Britisli.
Clare alludes to it by the name of ^lavis.

" The ^lavis Thnish with \\M delight,

Upon the orchard's dripping tree,
Mutters, to see the day so bright,

Fragments of young Hope's poesy ;
And oft Dame stops her buzzing wheel,

To hear the Robin's note once more.
Who tootles while he pecks his meal,

From sweet-briar hips behind the door."

Mr. AVatorton considers that the bird referred
to by David in the 102d Psalm, was a species of
thrush. The comparison is familiar to us all, in
which the Psalmist, after describing by various
poetic and touching images the depth of his sor-
row and loneliness, added, " I watch, and am as a

^ THE THRUSH. 17

sparrow alone upon the hoii.sc-top." The Hebrew
word which our translators liave here rendered
" sparrow," includes many insectivorous and fruit-
eating birds, and amonp^ them, all the thrushes
of Euro])e. It is most unlikely that the span-ow
should have Ijcen intended in the passage, because,
as every observer of nature knows, no bird is
more social in its habits than the house-sparrow ;
and though it may be seen in numbers sitting on
the house-top, yet one rarely sees a lonely sparrow
there. ^Ir. Waterton, who had ])<>iidered on this,
has concluded that the bird alluded to is the
Passer solitarius, in English "the solitary spar-
row," and in Italian Passera soUtaria, which he
says is a " real thrush in size, in shape, in liabit,
and in song, with this difference, that it is remark-
able throughout all the East for sitting solitary
on the habitations of man."

'• Tlie lirst time,' says this writer, '* that I ever
saw this lonely plaintive songster, was in going to
hear mass in the magnificent church of the Jesuits,
at Rome. The dawn was just appearing, and
the bird passed over my head, in its transit from
the roof of the Palace Odescalchi, to the belfry of
the chui-ch of the twelve apostles, singing as it
C

18 OtR ^-ATR'E SONGSTERS.

flew. I thought it had been tlie Italian blackbird
Avith notes different from those of our own, for
its song was partly that of the blackbird, and
partly that of the storm-cock ; but not so loud
as the last, nor so varied as the first. I found
out my mistake in due time ; and on seeing that
the bird was the true solitary thinish, I paid
particular attention to its habits."

" It is indeed a solitary bird, for it never associates
Avith any other, and only with its «nvn mate in
breeding-time ; and even then it is often seen
(|uite alone upon the house-top, where it warbles
in sweet and plaintive strains, and continues its
song as it moves in easy flight from roof to roof.
The traveller who is fond of ornithology, may
often see this bird on the remains of the Temple
of Peace, and occasionally in the Villa Borghese,
but much more frequently on the stupendous
ruins of the Baths of Caroicalla, where it breeds
in holes of the walls ; and always in the Colosseum,
where it likewise makes its nest; and in fine, at
one time or other of the day, on the tops of most
of the churches, monasteries, and convents, within
and without the walls of the Eternal City."

Tlie winter woods have a dreary aspect when

THE THRUSH. 19

pelting rains come down upon the leafless trees ;
but let one gleam of sunsliine illumine a December
or Jaimary morning, and wc find many beauties
there. Half hidden by the dry brown leaves, the
foliage of the primrose is pe4jping forth, and the
duckweed has a tiny white flower, which Ave
mark now when flowers are few. lied berries
gather on the glossy holly bough; large wi'eaths
of the snowy seeds of the traveller's-joy hang on
the branches of wild rose bushes ; the cornel and
the bramble liavc yet a reddish-brown leaf, the
old oak, a coronal of yellow, and the privet a spray
of green leaves, to tell of the beauty which is past
and the beauty which is coming. The winds
which but a few days since swept through the wood,
IxMiding the strong boughs and snapping some of
I the weaker ones, are to-day only powerful enough

I to awaken a melody a.s they come in fitful gusts,

or slowly relapse into more lengthened cadences.
They do not whisper like the lute, but neither do
they remind us of the full sound of the or^^'-an.
They have melodies of their own, sweeter tiiaii
those of any instrument which the skilful hand
ot man has accommrjdated to the yearnin^'- for
sweet sounds which tlie Great Creator has im-

20 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

planted within us, and to which He has tuned the
rich symphonies of Nature.

It is in the winter woods, and when sunshine
succeeds to some days of bad weather, tliat we
hear the sweetest notes of the missel-thrush*
[Turdus viscivorus). The song is not peculiar to
winter or early spring, hut is sung nearly
throughout the year. Perched on the very
summit of the gnarled oak, or on the taller elm,
the loud plaintive tones are carolled vigorously.
Sometimes the strain seems to consist of three or
four notes, incessantly repeated, nor is it ever
very varied ; but there are seasons when it is rich
and clear, and it is then often mistaken for the
tones of the blackbird. When the song is loudest
and harshest, it is regarded as an indication of
approaching rough weather; hence the bird is
called storm-cock in some country places, and its
presage is relied on as surely by the countrymen,
as that of the mist on the mountain, wliicli

* The Missel-thnisli is eleven inches in length. The head an(l
upper parts are deep brown ; the wings and tail umber-brown ;
the whole under parts yellowish white, thickly studded with black
spots, of which those on the throat and breast are triangular, and
those on the belly and sides are round ; the beak and feet are
brown, the former darker than the latter; the tail is slightly
forked.

THE TIIRUSU. 21

would ti'll to the mountaineer of coming rains.
That admirable observer of Nature, Bishoj) Mant,
has well descril^cd the variations of the song.

" But hark ! from top of loflie=Jt beech
The }^Iiasel-c(K;k'8 untiioeful screech ;
Not like the rich and varied note
Mclotlious from the ThroHtle's throat,
But a difltinct discordant scream,
Ab if for djiy'fl departing bcnm
To mourn, or with sad presage meet
The embryo stonii of rain and sleet :
More tuneful when he takes his stand
'Mid the warm sunshine, where at hand
On hawthorn, ehn, or maple grow,
The boughs of pale green mistletoe,
And plucks it« yellow flowers, or feeds
On the dark ivy's berried seeds :
And sure I ne'er have heard a song
Slore clear, more full, more rich, more strong.
Though mix'd at times with harsher note,
Than issued from liis evening throat,
\Vlmt time Fve seen the breezes blow
Hi* form all heedless to and fro,
ind heard him, as beneath I stood,
}')ur forth his music's changeful flood."

The Frencli call this bird La Drai'ne, and tlie
liermans the MisO'hIrossel, like ourselves naming
it from the Misseltoe, on which it so often feeds,
^luch of the dispersion of this plant is owing to
the thrush; for the berries, after being swallowed,

22 OUR ^•ATnT songsters.

are often left in a lit state for gennination on the
fruit-trees, where this handsome parasite soon
grows with a goodly bougli. Nor is the plant
confined to fmit-trees, for it may be seen also on
the thorn, maple, poplar, hazel, lime, or ash, and
sometimes, though very rarely, on the oak. It
is very ornamental with its pale green leaves and
pearly berries to our woods in winter, but in
many parts of the continent, as in France, it is
much larger, and indeed almost covers the trees
on Avhich it springs. The berries constitute a g0(Kl
portion of the food of our bird ; but the missel-
thrush eats also those of the iv}', holly, or yew,
besides various insects, worms, slugs, and snails.
It is not a great depredator of our gardens,
though it sometimes eats a few chen*ies and rasp-
berries; and the fruits of the mountin'n ash are
invariable borne away, if these songsters -^r? to be
found in their neighbomdiood. f

Mudie remarks that tliere is in our familiar
appellation, a sort of doul)le naming in the plants
and the birds. Thus the latter is called mis.^el-
thrush, because it missels (soils) it toes with tlic-
slime of the beny ; while the name of the misseltoc
refers to its soiling the toes of the bird.

THK THRUSH. 23

All the sweet singing of our wood.-i is performed
by small binls, for to large birds have been de-
nied the powers of song. The missel-thrnsh is not
nn\y the largest of its genus, but is also the largest
nf all our songsters. It is a very bold, quarrelsome
bird, but like some warm-tempered persons, it is
not destitute of the atfeetionate feelings which win
our regard. Tiius Gilbert White remarks : ^' It is,
while breeding, fierce and pugnacious, driving
such birds as approach its nest with gi*eat fury to
a distance. The Welsh call it 7V;?/?-r///?r«, the
head or master of the cop])ice. lie sutiers no
mag]:)ie, jay, or blackbird to enter tiie garden
where he haunts, and is for the time a good guard
to newly sown legumes. In general, he is very
successful in the defence of his family ; but once I
o])served in my garden, that several magj)ii's came,
detennined to storm the nest of a misscl-thnish :
the parents defended their mansion with great
vigour, and fought resolutely, y>ro art's et facts; but
numbers at last prevailed ; they tore the nest to
pieces, and swallowed the young alive."

These magpies are cruel enemies of many of the
smaller birds, and in spring, seem to keep up
perpetual warfare with tlie thrushes. Thus 3Ir.

24 Om NATIVE SONGSTERS.

Waterton tells of a tame magi^)ie which, being
allowed its freedom, and the use of its wings,
seized on a female missel-thnish which was attend-
ing to the family duties of the spring, and brought it
close to a spot where some masons where at work.
But the male storm- cock had love and courage,
and fought the magpie bravely, till his mate was
rescued, though at the expense of many feathers.
During the period of incubation, the female bird
fights in defence of the young as fiercely as her
mate, and both birds dash at the cat, the crow, or
any other enemy, till they succeed in driving it
away. In the season at which berries arc getting
somewhat scarce, and when the redwing and the
fieldfare come to claim tlieir share in the banquet,
it is most amusing to hear the angry chattering
which ensues, till the smaller birds have to leave
tlieir unfinished meal. ^Ir. Waterton describes
the sound made by the missel-thrushes when danger
is nigh, as resembling that produced by striking
the teeth of a comb smartly with the finger.

The storm-cock is a decided dweller in trees,
except when it resorts to the beny bearing shrubs,
or when occasionally hunting for food on the
ground. The nest, which is built in April, is very

THE THRUSH. 25

nicely made, and well fitted to protect the little
ones from the rain or cold. The outside is com-
posed of dried p-ass, or of some of those grey lichens
which hantr about our old trees; and these are
intermixed with dried grasses and green moss.
Then comes a compact layer of mud, which is
again lined with line grasses. But though these
are the usual materials of the nest, the storm-cock
will, at times, help itself to anything likely to
serve its purj30sc as well. Thus a lady in Ire-
land is said, by ^Ir. Thompson, to have lost a cap
which was laid out to dry upon the spring grass.
All search for the lost head-dress was unavailing,
till autumn came and stript away the leaves from
the trees, and something white was seen lying
among the boughs — one glance at the object told
the tale, and the owner soon saw the shreds of her
lace veiy ingeniously wrought in among the plants,
which had formed the home whence the young and
old missel-tlirushes had long since departed.

Five eggs of a greyish green tint, speckled over
with chocolate-coloured spots, are usually deposited
in the nest. This is placed in the angle of the
bough of the forest or orchard tree, and is often
left so exposed to view, as that any passer-by

26 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

might observe it ; sometimes, however, tlie little
builder exerts miieli ingenuity in finding such
materials for the outer portion of the nest, as
might mislead by their similarity to the branch on
which it is placed.

The missel-thnish is usually a wild and wary
bird, shunning the dwellings of man, though,
during the period of incubation, it seems fearless of
all danger. It is not imcommon in any part of our
island, but is not anywlierc so plentiful a bird as is
the common thrush. During the months of August
and September, the missel-thrushes seem to assem-
ble in numlicrs, but they are not migratory birds.

Who has not paused in his ramble through the
woods on some bright warm spring day, to listen
to the mellow notes of the Blackbird? {Turdus
meruJa.) Perchance we have taken shelter beneath
the boughs on which the delicate green leaves are
daily becoming larger and more numerous, from
the shower which alternates with the sunshine, and
then as the gleams of the smi come forth again to
render that foliage of brightest emerald hue, the
blackbird sings its welcome in the sweetest strains.
An April day suits it well, for it revels in the

X

THE BLACKBITID. 27

slight moisUirc wliicli passing sliowers communi-
cate to the atmosphere. Tlie song is little varied,
but 80 mellow, so flute-like arc its tones, that few
who are used to the country, have failed to listen
with delight. It is one of the earliest songs of
s])ring, too, and beginning on some fine day of
l*\'l)niar\', it fails not all the summer through, save
at tlie period of moulting. We cannot, while the
blackbird is singing, see its jetty plumes, for it
chooses for its place of song the thickest and
most leafy part of the woodland. Could we have
entered that wood when the moniing sun was
gradually gilding each leaf and bud with its earliest
rays, we should have heard the loud p'eeting of
the blackbird, like a ])salm of thankfulness, for
n'n('\vc(l suiisliiiic. ■

At evening too, ju.st when the shadows of
the trees are lengthening on the gi'ound, and
all the h«idscape is assuming tlic faint grey
tints of twilight, that blackbird's evening chaunt
may tell to us the praises of its Maker. An
a])proaching footstep disturbs the bird, and the
sharp shrill cry which is then uttered, may be the
sound of soiTow or of anger. The bird is, when
wild, more subtle and distrustful than the song-

28 OUn NATR'E SONGSTERS.

thrush, and yet it can be tamed more easily when
in captivity. Its powers of song render it a favou-
rite cage bird, but its notes are never so sweet as
in the green haunts wliich it loves so well, for they
are too loud for a room, and are sometimes a sad
annoyance in a neighbourhood where early rising
is not practised, and when the glad morning song
arouses the sleeper. But the pet blackbird may
be taught to whistle many a little air, and is so
good a mimic, that it can not only learn the notes
of other birds, but is said by Dr. Latham to imitate
the human voice. It has also been known to crow
like a cock, and cackle like a hen, ap])arently en-
joying the sound of the responses made by thr
fowds of the neighbouring farmyards.

We need not describe the bird so well known
by its dark plumes, more black than even those of
the raven, and its yellow bill, and yellow streaks
around the eyes. The female bird, however, differs
in colour, and the black plumage has a brownisli
hue, which on the chest passes into brown. White
birds of this species are to be met with, and a
naturalist who found one, to avoid the anomaly,
calls it a wdiitc yellow bill.

The blackbird is, during winter, mostly a soli-

I

THE BLACKBIRD. 29

tary bird, living in woods, hedges, and thickets ;
nor docs it appear that we have many accessions
of these birds from the north. It makes its nest
in Marcli or April, in large gardens, or thick
hedges, or bushes of evergreen, frequently taking
advantage of the dark green ivy, which, at this
cold season, ofiers a secure covert from wind and
rain : and which, during the early spring, has
allordcd in its dark ben*ies, so good a supply of
food. The nest is composed externally of iibrcs,
moss, and small twigs ; while a thick coating of
mud forms an inner wall, which is well lined witli
tine grass. The eggs, which are four or five in
number, are of a dull bluish green, with darker
blotches. Bishop ^Mant describes this structure,
as placed,

'* The overarchiug boughs between
Of some selected evergreen,
Of laurel thick, or bmnching fir,
Or bed of pleawtnt lavender,
To lodge secure their pendent home,
A well wove frame, with moisten'd loam
Within cemented ; and without
Rough but compactly, all about
With moss and fibrous roots entwined.
And wnther'd bent grass softly lined,
Where may repose, in season due.
Their pregnant balls of chiUky blue,
Besprent about the flatten'd crown
With pallid spots of chestnut bruwn."

30 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

Snails and slugs, worms and insects, are the
food of the blackbird, accompanied by a vegetable
diet of grapes, cherries, currants, gooseberries, and
the bemes of the ivy, the holly, and the mountain
ash. It must be admitted that these birds some-
times commit great ravages in the fmits of tlie
orchards and gardens, but they more than com-
pensate for this by their services in destroying
snails and insects. Every one accustomed to
observe grass lands knows how terribly these are
sometimes injured by the larva of the common cock-
chafer, that insect which, in its perfected condition,
often flics against us with its loud hunnning in our
evening walks of ^lay and June, and which is
familiarly called the Oak-web. The grub <>f tliis
insect remains for four years in a larva state, and
will sometimes destroy the turf of whole acres
of meadow land, feasting also upon the roots of
corn, and when in gi'cat numbers, proving a sad
pest to the agriculturist. Rooks are known to be
great destroyers of this insect, following the
ploughman in his course, and picking up the prey
which the instrument may dislodge from the soil.
Nor is the blackbird useless in ridding the land
of cockchafers. The Eev. W. T. Bree com-
municated a fact of this sort to the ^ilagazine of

THE BLACKBIRD. .jI

Natural History, which foniis a proof of tlieir
usefuhicss to man. " In the month of August
hist," says tliis <;entleman, ** I was struck with
the rather iniusually large assemblage of hlack-
hinls wljieh frequented my garden; eight or ten
were frerpiently to be seen together ; and one morn-
ing 1 counted thirteen at the same time, hopping
about, and chattering on the grass plot before the
house. Their visits were usually paid about eight
o'clock in the morning, and continued to arrest
my attention for perhaps ten days or a fortnight.
The l)irds directed their operations more especially
to particular spots on the grass plot, which they
stacked U]) with their bills, till the turf, which
changed coh)ur, jukI was supposed to be dying,
became almost bare in patches, and was fpiite dis-
figured by the refuse of gi'ass &c. which was left
littered on the surface. Indeed, such was the rough
and unsightly appearance which the grass plot pre-
sented in consefjuence, that hints were even thrown
out that the V)hiekbirds ought to be destroyed ; for
they had been repeatedly seen in the very act of
disticfuriu!^ the turf, and the whole mischief was
of course, from lirst to last, attributed to them.
Suspecting what might l)e the object of the bird's

32 OUR xati\t: songsters.

research, I turned up a piece of turf with tlie spade,
and found it almost swarming "with the cockchafer
grubs of various sizes ; and this circumstance con-
firmed my suspicion, that it was for the purpose of
feeding upon these larva?, that the blackbirds liad
made such havoc of the grass plot. They per-
formed, in short, in this case, precisely the same
service in destroying the cockchafer gnib, that thi-
rooks are so well known to do. Tlie turf, I sliould
add, soon regained its wonted verdure, tlie injured
patches being scarcely to be distinguished from
the rest of the grass plot."

This ■\^Titer adds, that this fact confinns him in
the opinion, tliat birds which chietly subsist on
vegetables, yet vary this diet with some portion of
animal food; as at the very time when tlie black-
birds were so busy in devouring the gi*ubs of the
cockchafer, the garden was full of cui'rants and
gooseberries, which form so agi-eeable a meal to
these birds.

Our blackbird is the Merle of our olden poets,
and both this and the scientific name Merula are
said to be derived from mera, or solitary, because
the bird is not gregarious. The Scotch still call it
the Merle. Thus Graham says,

TILE BLACKBIRD. 33

"Liat to the Merle's dulcet pipe ! melodious bird,
Who, hid behind the milk-white hawthorn spray,
Whose early flower.s anticipate the leaf,
Welcomes the time of buds, the infant years."

Shakspere calls it —

"The Woosel-cock, so black of hue,
With orange tawny bill"

And it is still called the garden ouzel in some
counties. Woofel is another name by which the
old English poets wrote of it, and which is
apparently but a variation of Woosel. The
Gemians term the bird Schwardrossel.

The Hesh of the black1)ird is in some parts of
the Continent considered a great delicacy during
summer, though at the season in which it feeds on
ivy berries it is somewhat bitter. In our country
it is little eaten, and few of us would wish to
share in the repast of which we read in tlip
nurser)% when

"Four-and-twenty blackbirds were placed in a pie."

It is April, and wood and mead are green with
the frequent showers, and soft pillowy clouds lie
on the surl\ice of the blue sky. There is an air
of freshness and youth in all nature, and, let us
turn where we will from the dwellings of man,
I)

34 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

the chorus of birds shall greet our cars. The
wind sweeps gently over the wild tlowers which
crown the rocky crag, and the rivulets whicli run
among the mountains are sparkling with diamonds,
and melodious with the whisperings of the wind
among the inishes, and with the trickling of its
waters on the green mosses. The moorland
spreads for miles away on the landscape, and wide
hilly tracts are sprinkled with the furze, which is
already golden, here and there, with the blossoms
of spring. It is in such jdaces that at this season
the wild shy Ring Ouzel* {Tardus torquatus)
resorts to place its nest in some secluded s})ot.
It has come from some wanner climate, and per-
chance since it was here last summer, it has seen
the sandy soil of Africa, gay with its brilliant
flowers, and passed over the sunny south, whose
dales and hills are brighter than those of our
island. But it would not linger there, but has
come to the rocky moors of colder lands to rear

* The Ring Ouzel is eleven inches in length. The general
plumage is black, with a broad crescent of white across the
breast; the black feathers are generally margined with grey,
most broadly on the wings; the beak is yellow at the base and
black at the tip ; the feet are blackish. The female is coloured
like the male, but the hues are less pure.

^

THE RING OUZEL. 35

its youn^^ The ring ouzel, liowcvcr, is not
witli us a common bird, though more frequent
in our northern and western counties tliau else-
where. It is well known in some parts ot
Devonshire, is a hird of the Peak of Derbyshire,
and in Scotland resorts to the (Jrampian Tlills.
We could wish that it were more generally distri-
buted, for its song is said to be very sweet. The
bird, which is often seen in Nonvay, Mr. llewnt-
son describes as frequenting many of the wooded
rocks of that country, and enlivening the most
bleak and desolate islands with its sweet song,
lie says that it shares with the redwing the name
of nightingale, and often delighted him in Jiis
midnight rambles. In France it is called tiic
mountain blackbird, and it is in some of our coun-
ties known as the white-breasted blackbird. It
has been thus by a poet contrasted with the black-
bird, which it is much like in form and habits,
only that it never chooses for its haunt the in-
closed and inhabited districts.

"From stone to stone the ouzel flits along,
Startling the linnet from the hawthorn bough :
While on the elm-tree, overshadowing deep
The low-roof d cottage white, the blackbird sits
Cheerily hymning the awaken'd year."

36 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

The ring oiizel places its nest near the stream,
sometimes sheltered by a bank, or by some chimp
of large foliage ; but often the wanderer over the
moorland may see it scarcely liidden by the
branches of the ling, or lying quite exposed to
view, among the heather bells or roseate heath.
The form and materials of this little structure are
similar to those of the blackbird, and the eggs,
too, resemble, both in size and colour, those of our
early songster. Bechstein says that its voice is
sweeter than that of our favourite, though some
notes are hoarser and deeper; but few naturalists
agree with him, and it is by others compared to
that of the misscl-tlirush. The bird sings usually
from the top of some crag or stone.

The food of the ring ouzel consists of snails,
insects, hawthorn berries, and various fruits; and
when it first returns to us in spring, it eats many
ivy berries. During autumn it sometimes comes
to gardens for the fruit, and about the end of
October it is seen along our southern coasts in
flocks of from twenty to thirty, ready for its de-
parture. Mr. Yarrell thinks that these birds cross
the Channel to France and Spain, and thence
to Africa, where they pass the winter; while he

THE RING OUZEL. 37

considers that flocks from tlie eastern counties
probably cross to Germany. It differs from other
thrushes in this peculiarity, that it is as fat in
the spring as in the autumn, while they, as "well
as most snuiU birds, arc very lean in the early
season.

The male ring ouzel is a very spirited bird, and
Mr. Thorn j)son relates an anecdote which j)roves
it to be ready to attack, even when there would
seem no excuse for its pugnacity. This gentleman
was walking in Crow-glen, near Belfast, with a
pointer dog in advance, when two male ring ouzels
rushed wildly screaming around the dog, at a few
inches from his head. The dog seemed perplexed
as to what he should do, and gave nuiny an earnest
and pleading look at his master, as if for advice in
the dirtieulty. Finding this useless, he at lengtli
ran up to him; but the fearless birds, no way dis-
couraged by the presence of the narrator and his
two companions, followed, and flew so near that
they might have struck them with their hands.
"At the beginning of the onset," says this writer,
*' a female bird appeared as if inciting the males
forward, and remained so long as they were attain-
ing the highest pitch of violence, and then, like

38 OUR NATBT SONGSTERS.

another heroine, retired to another eminence to
be 'spectatress of the fray.' Had tliey been a
pair of birds protecting their young, or assuming
similar artifice to the lapwing in withdrawing
attention from their nest, — in which the ring ouzel
is said to be an adept, — the circumstance would
perhaps be unworthy of notice; but they were
both male birds in adult plumage. The chase
of the dog was continued a considerable way
down the glen, and for fully fifteen or twenty
minutes."

But the deep secluded glen, where the stream
rushes rapidly through the water-flowers and
grasses, or dashes over the stones or against the
rocks, in its course watering the green mosses
which cover them into a richer greenness ; the
quiet nook of earth, where the smoke rarely rises
against the blue sky, is a home for another species
of ouzel, one which is more frequent too, the
Water Ouzel, or Dipper* {Cinclus aquati'cus). Even
in tlie dreary season, when the trees are bare of

* The Dipper is about seven inches in length. The head and
neck ai'e umber-brown; the rest of the upper parts and lower
belly nearly black; chin and throat white, merging into chest-
nut-brown on the breast ; the beak and feet dark brown.

THE WATER OUZEL. 39

leaf or bud, when the ground is crisp with frost,
and the streams are flowing beyond their bounds
from the large quantity of snow which has fallen
into them, even then the song of the water ouzel is
strong, rapid, and sweet, often continuing for three
or four minutes, and sounding through the clear air
like a voice of spring from the depths of winter.
In some of our northern counties, where these
birds are frequent, it would be difficult to pursue
the course of any stony rivulet for a mile or two
without seeing several of them flying in pairs a
little way onward; then stopping by the side of
the rivulet, and singing the sweet and varied
song. It is among the earliest strains of spring ;
it is sung even at Cliristmas. It gi'eets the
wanderer among the voices of summer, is heard
late in tlie autumn, and is not even silent when
night draws the curtain of repose on almost all
our singing birds. Those who have heard it very
often have compared it to the song of the wren in
its execution, though differing materially in not
having the loud shrillness of the wren's strain ;
but possessing instead a certain subdued and
warbling richness. Never is it sweeter than on
a frosty morning of January,

40 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

Strange stories were formerly narrated of this
dipper; telling how, in violation of all tlic laws
of gravity, which ordain that things lighter than
the water shall float to its surface, this bird has
been enabled to sink beneath it and walk for a
long space upon the ground. But this fable has
had to yield to more accurate observation, and the
lover of the marvellous must content himself now
with knowing tliat the dijipor can plunge suddenly
into the deptli, rise again at some distance from
the spot, plunge in again right merrily, and sink-
ing and emerging, again and again, seem no way
ruffled in S])irits or plumage by the performance.
He generally commences his diving from a rock
slanting a little way from the surface, either
placed in the stream or at its side, and having
first looked eagerly into the blue beneath him,
he boldly seeks the deptli, and pursues his pre}'
where our eye cannot follow the movement.
Even the half-fledged nestlings will, if alanned,
take to the water, as to their proper element, and
learn to dive before they can learn to fly. Their
food lies in the rivers and streams, and the larva
of many an aquatic insect, Avliich lies there await-
ing till Time shall have gifted it with gauzy and

THE WATER OUZEL. 41

i^olden wings to hover over the pool, forms a meal
to tlie dipper. The caddis worm, which moves
alonp^ at the bottom of tlie pool, in its case of
woody fragments, and which, if left unharmed,
will float over the stream as the light ^lay-tly,
supplies our hird with many a feast; and iu his
diving he seizes the tiny and beautiful stickleback,
from the shoals which float in our lakes and
streams, and which country people call barn-
stickles because of their prickly spines ; while the
little minnows find no escape from his skilful
wing and quick-seeing eye.

Mr. ^lacgillivray has told us by what means the
di])])er moves under the water, and says, that in
reality it flies, extending its wing precisely as it
would do were the air the element in which it was
moving. Its body usually slants downwards,
and the bird evidently has to use considerable ex-
ertion t<i keep itself at the bottom of the water.
He remarks that in some instances, when he has
clearly seen its motions there, it appeared to
tumble about in a singular manner, its head in-
clining downwards, as if it were pecking at some-
thing, while both legs and wings were actively
employed. It was at this time, apparently, iu the

42 OUE NATIVE SONGSTERS.

act of seizing its food. He adds that its structure
is not fitted for walking below the surface, for its
short legs and long curved claws are most unsuited
to the act of running, though well adapted for
effecting a steady footing on the slippery stones
which lie under or above the water. The dipper
consumes a great quantity of fishes' spawn, parti-
cularly of that of the salmon, while the little shell-
fish wliicli lie in sucli numbers about tlie stems
and foliage of water-plants become its prey, and
are easily seized by it, whether floating near the
sm-face or lying in winter torpidity. Neither
cold nor frost deters this hardy bird from dipping
in the stream, into which he will phmge in winter
from a Large piece of ice, and from this habit
most probably it derives its name. The Germans
call it, IVasserscJiwatzer, the Frcncli, Merle dcau,
and the Italians, Tot-do del aqua. It is a resident
bird in our country, and is not unfrequent in the
north and west of England, nor in Scotland, thougli
it is seldom seen in the counties near London.

The plants which grow so luxuriantly in our
waters, giving the spots where streams run a
great appearance of richness and beauty, are used
by this water-blackbird in making its nest. This

THE WATER OUZEL. 43

is a very singular structure, often as large as a
man's liat, more or less semicircular in form, witli
a firm sloping roof, made of moss, or water-
plants, beneath wliicli, as if under eaves, and com-
pletely hidden, is an aperture just large enough to
admit the passage of the bird. The commodious
and domed chamber within is lined with withered
oak-leaves ; and five beautiful eggs, of clear
snowy white, are deposited there.

The Avater ouzel's nest is built early in the
year, and the first family are ready for flight by
the beginning of May. The nest is so well
hidden, in some cases, that it could never be dis-
covered, did not the cliirping of the nestlings
l)ctray its site, or the flight of the parent birds, as
they i)ass to and from their younglings with food,
mark the haunt. Often it is placed in some cre-
vice of the rock, or bank, which overhangs the
water, and occasionally it is concealed among the
stones at the side. A writer in the " ^lagazine of
Natural History " remarks : — " Once I found a
water ouzel's nest among some slender boughs,
overhanging a stream ; and once beneath a water-
fall, at a point where the rock retreated a little in
the middle ; tlie water falling in a sheet just over

44 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

the nest, and forming, as it were, a crystal veil to
it. Indeed, the eaves of the nest (as I call them)
were always dripping wet, whereas the oak lining
witliin remained always perfectly dry. The art
with which this nest was accommodated to its
situation was consummate.'* Mr. Thompson men-
tions a pair of water ouzels, which frequented
a shade erected over a large mill-wheel, of forty
feet diameter. It was supposed that they liad
a nest there, though it could not he discovered ;
but he adds, that the appearance of the birds
often caused surprise, as they emerged from the
dark and gloomy abode, between the arms of this
gigantic wheel, which was almost constantly in
motion.

That beautiful bird, the Rose Ouzel* [Pastor
roseus), now and then appears in our island,
though too rarely to deserve anything more than
a passing notice among our singing birds. Few
have heard its notes in our land. Mr. ]5roderip
remarks of it: — " The song of this species appears

* The Rose Ouzel is eight inches and a half in length. The
whole head and neck, the wings, and the tail, are black with a
blue gloss ; the whole middle part of the body, both above and
below, rose-pink ; beak and feet yellowish : the head is adorned
with a fine falling crest.

THE ROSE OrZEL. 45

to be peculiar. A wounded bird, shot from a
flock by a sportsman near Meiningen, in Suabia,
was soon liealed and tamed by the kindness of
M. von Wachter, the rector of Frickenhausen ;
and it began to sing. Bechstein relates, that its
warbling consisted, at*first, of only a few harsh
sounds, pretty avcU connected ; but this in time
became more smooth and clear. A connoisseur
wlio had lieard the bird without seeing it, thought
he was listening to a concert of two starlings, two
goldtinclies, and perhaps a siskin ; and when he
saw that it was a single bird that made this music,
he could not conceive how it all came from the
same throat. One of these birds is now in the
aviary of the Zoological Society in the Regent's
Park."

This bird is called the Pastor Ouzel, because,
like the starling, it is often seen in company with
sheep and cattle. It is the locust-bird of the
east, and is much cherished there, as it destroys
the locusts, so often a scourge to the vegetation of
oriental countries. The Arabs term it Smurmur,
in imitation of its note. In India these birds are
very numerous, darkening the air at the season

46 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

when the bread-corn is ripening. In Dukhun,
during the month of December, forty or fifty are
said, by Colonel Sykes, to be killed at a shot.
At this season tliey are very destructive to the
crops, and commit scarcely less ravages than the
locusts, which at other times tliey are so usefid in
destroying.

Far more common is another migratory visitant of
the thrush tribe — the Fieldfare* {Tardus jfHaris) —
which comes to our island with the redwing for the
winter, and reaches us just as our other migratory
birds are taking their departure. The Rev. W. T.
Bree obsen'cs, tliat lie had heard an old sportsman
say, that the same wind wliich brought the swallows,
took the woodcocks away ; and adds, " I have
heard an intelligent countr}^man remark, alluding
to the fieldfares and redwings in the spring, that
there would be no warm weather till those birds had
done chattering." Sometimes the common thriLshes
are observed to congi'cgate with the small parties

* The Fieldfare 13 ten inches in length. The upper parts in
general are ash-grey, but the back and wings are umber-bro>vn
and the tail is blackish : chin and throat fine yellow ; breast
reddish-brown ; belly white ; the throat and breast, and the crown
of the head, spotted with black : the beak and feet brown.

THE FIELDFARE. 47

of fieldfares, wliicli arc in company together.
Clare thus notices these birds: —

" The hedger's toils oft scare the doves that browze
The chocolate berries on the ivy boughs ;
Or flocking fieldfares, speckled like the thnish,
Picking the berry from the hawthorn bush,
That come and go on winter's chilling wing,
And seem to have no sympathy with spring."

In sonic years, when these "birds liave arrived
here by the end of September, the snow having
lain long on the ground, they have cleared off all
the ivy-berries in the neighbourhood, eating them
miripened, and before they were as large as a
pea. In milder seasons, the fieldfares spread
themselves in flocks over the fallow-lands and
pastures, hunting for the slugs and worms, which
they seem to prefer to the berries, to which they
resort when these animals cannot be procured.
These thrushes remain with us usually till about
the coming back of the swallow; but they have
been seen and heard sometimes as late as the
middle of ^lay. The nest has been found,
though very rarely, both in England and Scot-
land. Their summer quarters are the countries
at the north of Europe ; and they stay through-
out the year in Poland, Prussia, and Austria.

48 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

They may be heard with tlie redwings, p^e^^Ollsly
to their departure, all chirping together; but
little harmony exists in this noisy concert.

The call-note of the fieldfare is unmusical, but
its song is soft and melodious, though Bechstein
thinks otherwise ; for lie says it is a harsh and
disagreeable warble. Many persons, however,
like its strains when in confinement, and it is
easily tamed. A still sweeter song belongs 'to the
Kedwing* {Turclus iliacus); and it is heard some-
times in this country, before the bird takes its
spring departure. This bird is called the nightin-
gale of Nonvay ; but its song, apparently, does not
acquire perfection in this land. Here it hardly
sings it out, but runs over its modulations in low
and gentle tones, as if afraid of pouring forth all
its joys, or as if practising against the season of
song, though the voice seems no better in May
than it was in January. Mr. Blyth, writing of this
bird in the month of March, says, — *'A day or

* The Redwing is less than nine inches in length. The ■whole
upper parts are d;\rk brown ; whole under parts impure white,
tinged with brown on the breast and flanks, and studded with
chains of triangular blackish spots : the sides of the body and
the inner surfaces of the wings are of a fine pale red ; a streak
of pale brown passes over each eye: beak black; feet pale brown.

THE REDWING. 49'

two ago, I think I heard one in its full perfection.
It (lid not see me, and it was alone, away from
its companions, and piping forth with the utmost
glee and spirit. Its notes Averc low and soft, some
of them very sweet ; and it now and then intro-
duced a few that Avere loud and pleasing ; but
altogetlier its song is by no means equal to that
of the mavis. The redwing, in short, is not a
bird worth confining for tlie mere sake of its
music."

The smaller birds, in general, acquire each
season their song by degi-ees, though this is less
the case with the thrush tribe than with any
other; as the missel-thrush and mavis sing as
loudly and fully in November as in March; and
the flute-like tones of the blackbird are as me-
lodious amid tlie cold w^inds of early spring, as in
the warm and pleasant month of April. Young
birds of the singing species may, however, be
heard practising their song even before leaving
the nest. This practising is by bird-fanciers
called recording, apparently from the musical
instrument formerly in use in England, termed
a recorder, which is thought to have been a kind
of flute, and may have been used to teach young
£

50 ouu natrt: songsters.

birds to form notes. " I have known," says
the Hon. Daines Barrington, " instances of birds
beginning to record when they were not a month
old. This first essay does not seem to have tlie
least rudiments of the future song; but, as the
bird grows okler and stronger, one may begin to
perceive what the nestling is aiming at, AVhilst
the schohir is thus endeavouring to form his song,
when lie is once sure of a passage, he commonly
raises liis tone, which he drops again when he is
not equal to what he is attempting; jnst as a
singer raises his voice, when he not only recollects
certain parts of a tune with precision, but knows
that he can execute them. What the nestling is
not thus thoroughly master of, he humcs over,
lowering his tone, as if he did not wish to be
heard, and could not yet satisfy himself. A young
bird commonly continues to record for ten or
eleven months, when he is able to execute every
part of his song, which afterwards continues fixed,
and is scarcely ever altered. AVlien the bird is
thus become perfect in his lesson, he is said to
sing his song round, or in all its varieties of pas-
sages, which he connects together, and executes
without a pause."

THE REDWING. SI

A similar practice may be observed in autumn,
among older birds. During the season of moult-
ing, the woods are silent, for no song is uttered
by the birds which sang so sweetly on these
boughs in spring. Several of our birds, how-
ever, recommence singing when this moulting is
over. Thus, the robin's autumnal note is one of
the first tones to remind us that winter is on its
way to us ; and the wren and the goldfinch have
a strain for the fading year. At this time, before
these birds arrive at their full song, they may be
heard warbling their low prelude, as a singer
might do to prepare her voice for louder strains of
music. The chaffinch will sometimes practise thus
for several weeks before attaining its former per-
fection; and the nightingale thus tries for a long
time to model the notes of its rich strain before it
can produce the full degree of compass and bril-
liance. This practising does not seem to arise
from any forgetfulness of the song, but from a
want of flexibility in the organs of the voice,
owing to long disuse.

But we must return to the redwing, which,
besides its song, has a very loud call-note, seeming
as if it uttered a cry of " tan, tan, kan, kan," a

02 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

sound which, in woods where foxes abound, is
said to serve as a notice of its presence to that
animal, when Reynard will follow it a long
distance through the wood. The food of this bird
usually consists of snails, slugs, worms, and soft
insects. When these cannot be procured, it feeds
on the ivy and other berries; but it is probable that
many of the redwings perish in winter, not from
the cold, but from hunger. AVhen an early gleam
of sunshine awakes the insect world before their
time, this bird seems truly to liail with delight
the season of food and brightness.

" Flowers peep, trees bud, boughs tremble, rivers run,
The redwing saith it is a glorious mom."

Our bird is much like the common thrush. It
chiefly frequents parks and shrubberies, and has
been seen and hoard as late as the month of May,
in Surrey, Essex, and Yorkshire; while White of
Selborne heard it in his neighbourhood as late as
June, in a season which had been unusually back-
ward and cold. The redwing has been known to
make its nest occasionally in Middlesex and Sur-
rey. But these were evidently exceptions to the
general rule, and the bird usually wings its way

THE GOLDEN ORIOLE. 53

to northern climates to rear its young, and to
sing there the "sweet wild song/' which it is
described as singing in Norway.

The soft flute-like notes of the Golden Oriole*
(On'oJus (jalhula), are now and then heard in our
orchards, for this bird is an occasional visitor to
Britain. With the exception of the Bohemian
Wax-wing, it is the most beautiful of all the
birds which find their way into this country, and it
is so richly coloured, that one would believe it
to be a native of those tropical lands where
birds and insects and flowers are so much more
gorgeous than with us. It is not imcommon in
Germany, Holland, and France, and is very nu-
merous in Spain, Provence, and Italy, dwelling in
secluded groves, and in the borders of forests,
during the summer months, and departing in the
autumn into Africa and the warmer regions of
Asia.

A very sweet song is that of the golden oriole ;

* The Golden Oriole is nine inches and a half in length. The
general plumage brilliant yellow, with the wings and tail black,
and a black stripe on each side of the face ; beak orange-brown ;
feet lead colour. The female is greenish yellow, streaked with
^k brown.

54 OUE NATIVE SONGSTERS.

and it has been likened to the sounding of various
words by those who listened to it. The French
call the bird Pere Loinot^ and some say that its
song cleary articulates the words Oriot or Loriot.
French ornithologists go further still, and detect
in its notes the words Compere Loriot ( Gossip
Loriot); others say, that it cries '■' Louisat bonnes
merises,^^ (Louisat good black cherries;) and others
have arrived at the very climax of fancy, and
detect very decidedly, " C'est le compare Loriot qui
mange les cerises et laisse le noyaus (It is the
gossip Loriot who eats the cherries, and leaves
the kernel.) Tlie notes "Yo, yo, yo," are cer-
tainly repeated in its song, and Beclistein says,
that the call-note of the bird is well expressed
by the words "Ye puhlo." It can imitate tones
not natural to it. Thus, the last-named WTiter
mentions two golden orioles reared from the nest,
one of which, in addition to its own song, whistled
a minuet, wliile the other imitated a ilourish of
trumpets. It is a very distrustful bird, and not
easily reared in captivity, rarely living more than
three or four months in a cage.

The food of the oriole consists of insects and
berries, and it makes some havoc among cherries,

THE GOLDEN OKIOLE. 55

which seem to be its favourite fruit. Its singular
nest is generally hung in a fork of a bough, being
usually attached firmly to both branches. It
contains four or five white eggs, tinged with
purple. The French have a saying that it is an
ill omen to find an oriole's nest.

These birds display great attachment to their
young, and great courage in defending them,
Montbeillard says, that the parent birds will dart
courageously at those who cany off their nest-
lings, and that the persevering mother has been
known, when caged with her nest, to continue
hatching in confinement, and to die while sitting
on her eggs.

The epicures of the Greek isles consider the
flesh of the oriole a great delicacy, and this is
with other small birds often exposed there for
sale.

CHAPTER II.

CHIFF-CHAFF — WILLOW WREN — HEDGE SPARROW ALPINE

ACCENTOR DARTFORD WARBLER — GOLD-CREST FIRE-
CREST COMMON WREN.

There is no season of the year wliicli seems so
full of life and beauty as the months of April and
May. The lambs lie like patches of snow upon
the meadow, now green with richest grass, and
bright with its sprinkled daisies and buttercups.
In the wood where the soft winds answer to the
running brooks, the blue-bells are hanging, and
the wind-flowers with their white and pink petals
are all unharmed by the breeze. An odour of
rimroses and violets comes from the banks, and
leaves quiver and dance in the sunshine, and cast
a chequered shadow on the pathway. There is a
loud concert of singing among the green boughs,
and every day it becomes more varied. Not only
are our resident birds in full song, but those visi-
tants which wing their way across the ocean to

THE CHITF-CHAFF. 57

build their houses and rear their young in our
woods, will all have reached us by the middle of
May, and during that and the two following months
all the minstrels of wood and glen, of mountain
and river-side, — all may be heard and seen. It is
the season of incubation, the period when the
songs are sweetest ; and when this is over many
migratory birds will leave, and those which remain
will be mostly silent, till the robin and wren begin
their autumnal songs among the yellow leaves.
It is not till late in May, that the soft and plain-
tive cooing of the turtle-dove announces its arrival ;
and when its silver Tv^ngs flit along througli the
trees, we may liear, too, the note of tlie fly-catcher,
which is one of our latest visitors. Long since,
before the trees had put forth a spray of leaves to
meet the diilling winds of March, and when the
sloe had a white flower here and there upon its
branches, and the willow-tree bore already its
balls of gold, the chifl'-chaff' had come to join its
notes with those of our thrush and blackbird,
when a bright day invited them to song. Then
the whinchat was soon heard as its abrupt notes
issued from the furze-clad common. Early in
April came the redstart, and then followed

58 OUn NATIVE SONGSTERS.

swallows and martins, and we might say in the
words of our earliest extant ballad —

" Summer is come in,
Loud sings the cuckoo."

There is life everywhere, and insects glitter in
the sunbeam, and pursue their destined summer
work : —

" Bird, bee, and butterfly — the favourite three
That meet us ever on our summer path !
And what, with all her forms and hues divine,
Would summer be without them ? Though the skies
Were blue, and blue the streams, and fresh the fields,
And beautiful as now, the waving woods.
And exquisite the flowers ; and though the sun
Beam'd from its cloudless throne from day to day,
And with the breeze and shower, more loveliness
Shed o'er this lovely world ; yet all would want
A charm, if those sweet denizens of earth
And air, made not the great creation teem
With beauty, grace and motion ! Who would bless
The landscape, if upon his morning walk
He greeted not the feather}' nations, perch'd
For love or song, amid the dancing leaves ;
Or wantoning in flight from bough to bough,
From field to field ? Ah ! who would bless thee, June,
If silent, songless, were the groves, — unheard
The lark in heaven ? "

And now the dwellers in the countiy can but
remark how busy are the birds at nest building.
Away they fly with the scrap of wool from the

NEST BUILDING. 59

sheepfold, or the feather from the farm-yard, or
the moss from the bank, or the twig or lichen
from the tree. In most cases, the labour of nest-
building devolves on the female bird, and when
her companion aids her, it is simply by carrying
the moss, or wool, or grass, to the appointed spot,
while many birds fail in even rendering this assist-
ance. The hen bird collects her materials, and
weaving a framework of dried stems and twigs
she by various movements of her body moulds
the other substances to their destined form.
There are birds which, like the cuckoo, make no
nests, but leave to others the care of providing a
dwelling for their little ones ; but many nests are
framed with exquisite skill, and so exactly fitted
for the circumstances in which they are to be
placed, that we may say with Hurdis, of one of
them : "It wins my admiration." Great indeed is
the beauty of some of these structures, especially
of those of the finches. That of the chaffinch
or the goldfinch, of hemispherical shape, and
formed of a compact framework, with its warm
neat lining, is made with great skill and taste,
and would lead one to infer that its builder had
a love for the beautiful. The nest of the noisy

60 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

magpie suggests the idea that its owner had an
eye to the dangers which awaited it, and so made
a house adapted for defence from its enemies,
and guardecJ so well with thorny brandies, that
one might as well attempt to seize a fui'ze-bush
hastily, as to grasp at it. The wren has the
aperture of its nest at the side next to the
light : and the blackbird building so early in
spring, not only seeks the shelter of the ever-
green bouglis, but makes a firm wall to its nest,
impervious to wind and rain. The swallow knows
how to glue its cradle in the angle of the window
or chimney, or beneatli the eaves of the house ;
and constructs a solid dwelling of clay, tliickened
with straws and feathers, and well lined with
a downy quilt. ^lany of the birds of other lands
are even more ingenious architects than our native
songsters. Thus the pretty Penduline Titmouse
of the south and east of Europe, frames a nest
of remarkable elegance, woven of down which it
gathers from the catkin of the willow or poplar,
or from the ball of the dandelion or the thistle tuft.
Of these it manufoctures a kind of felt or cloth,
which it strengthens by the fibres of plants, while
it lines its nest with a thick cushion of the down

INSTINCT. 61

in its natural state, making a ledge over the
aperture of the nest, whicli it can close at will,
and fastening the structure to a branch sus-
pended over a running stream, so that the rats or
snakes which frequent the waters cannot reach it.
There are birds of the East wliich build chambers
in their nests, and others which ingeniously sew
leaves together for a covering to their little homes ;
others are perfect basket-makers, and weave so
well, that the birds have received the name of
those artizans, whose fabrics their nests resemble.

The nests of our song-birds vary sometimes
a little, in consequense of the situation or the
materials which are to be found in the neighbour-
hood in which they are built ; yet from one gene-
ration to another, they are framed with so much
regularity that a practical ornithologist can tell
at once, if he sees an empty nest, what species of
bird was the architect. As James Montgomery
has said : —

" The nightingale that dwelt in Adam's bower,
And pour'd his stream of music through his dreams ;
The soaring lark, that led the eye of Eve
Into the clouds, her thoughts into the heaven
Of heavens, where lark nor eye can penetrate ;
The dove that perch'd upon the tree of life,

62 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

And made her bed upon its thickeat leaves :

All the wing'd habitants of Paradise,

Whose songs once mingled with the songs of angels,

Wove their first nests as curiously and well

As the wood minstrels in our evil day,

After the labours of six thousand years,

In which their ancestors have fail'd to add,

To alter, or diminish anything,

In that of which Love only knows the secret.

And teaches every mother for herself,

Without the power to impart it to her offspring."

That it is instinct, and not teaching which
enables the bird to build its nest, we know from
the fact that the birds reared in cages where they
have never seen the usual dwellings of their
species, will, as far as materials and circumstances
admit, forai a nest like that of tlieir kind. Some
slight variations, according to necessity, may
be seen; yet, as Mr. Knapp has observed, there
is little deviation. " Birds," says this -writer,
" which build early in spring, seem to require
warmth and shelter for their young. Thus the
blackbird and tlirush line their nets with a plaster
of loam, perfectly excluding by these cottage-like
walls the keen icy gales of our opening years ;
yet if these are destroyed, they will build one in
later summer, exactly like it, at a time when cool-
ness would seem desirable."

COTJRAGE OF PARENT BIRD. 6S

It is traly wonderful and interesting to remark
how the parental instinct works in the lieart of
the bird, altogether changing for a time its cha-
racter and habits. Fitted for soaring, and restless
and volatile beyond any other living creature, yet
the hen bird will sit hour after hour, and day
after day, upon her cgg^, and in some cases her
companion will share in this domestic duty ; while
at all times the mother-bird must depend on the
care of licr mate for her food. The constant
labour of feeding the nestlings becomes a most
arduous one, owing to the great quantity which
young birds consume ; and as it chiefly consists at
that time of the soft bodies of insects, both birds
must search actively and labour constantly to
aftbrd the supply. Colonel Montagu, who watched
the manner in which a pair of Gold-crests fed
their young, has recorded several interesting facts
on this subject. He placed the nest, when the
young Avcre about six days old, in a basket in his
study. The parent birds came to them ; the male
bird not ha\^ng courage to enter into the room by
the window, while the female braved all dangers,
and at length would feed her young while this
gentleman held the nest in his hand. The male

64 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

bird always accompanied liis mate, wliile slie
flew backwards and forwards, but never ventured
beyond the window frame, and after a time never
brought food in his bilL "At first," says this
writer, " there were ten young in the nest, but
probably for Avant of the male's assistance in pro-
curing food, two died. The visits of the female
were generally repeated in the space of a minute
and a half or two minutes, or upon an average
thirty-six times an liour, and this continued full
sixteen hours in a day, and if equally divided
between the eight young ones, each would receive
seventy-two feeds in the day, the whole amounting
to five hundred and seventy-six. From exami-
nation of the food, which by accident now and then
dropped into the nest, I judged from those weighed,
that each feed was a quarter of a grain, upon an
average ; so that each young one was supplied
with eigliteen grains' weight in a day, and as the
young ones weighed about seventy-seven grains
at the time they began to perch, they consumed
nearly their weight of food in four days' time
at that period. This extraordinary consumption
seems absolutely requisite in animals of such rapid
growth. The old birds of this species weigh from

COURAGE OF PARENT BIRD. 65

eighty to ninety grains. I could always perceive
by the animation of the young brood when the
old one was coming, probably some low note
indicated her approach, and in an instant every
mouth was open to receive the insect morsel.
But there appeared no regularity in the supply
given by the parent bird: sometimes the same
was fed two or three times successively, and I
generally observed that the strongest got most,
being able to reach farthest, the old one delivering
it to the mouth nearest to her."

Not only is the patience of the motlicr-bird
required during the time- of sitting on the eggs,
but when the nestlings are hatched they require,
the warmth of her sheltering wings, both by day
and night, so that for several days after she is
unable to (juit them lest they shoidd die of cold.
iVnd now, too, the timid bird becomes courageous,
and will brave any danger to protect or feed the
nestlings. Instances are recorded in which the
lark, usually so easily frightened, has fluttered
before the fowler to call his attention away from
her younglings; and many birds, like the blue
titmouse, will follow the person who seizes the
young, and amid wild screams w411 rush at tlw

66 OUU NATIVE SONGSTERS.

hand which bears away the nest. Whether or not
the parent bh'cls are able to give any instruction
to their young, as to tlieir mode of learning to fly,
is doubted by some ; but this is certain, that they
watch over them, warn them of dangers, and
never cease to aid and feed them, till their feathered
wings enable them to provide for themselves.

But leaving birds in general, we must proceed
to some of our slender-billed or soft -billed warblers.
These are a very interesting family, from their
sweetness of song. Most of them are migratory,
though there are among tliem a few which remain
with us all the winter.

Early in February, when as yet tlie trees are
leafless, and the woods silent, save wlien tlie winds
waken them into melody, tliat sweet little bird,
the Hedge Warbler or Hedge Sparrow* [Afcentor
??ioc?«/«rzs),may beheard uttering its low song, which
has a far less joyous sound than that of most birds,
and is a perfect contrast to that of the lark, which

* The Hedge Sparrow is five inches and a half in length. The
head and neck are dull grey, streaked Avith broum ; the back and
wings reddish brown, similarly streaked with darker ; the tail
dusky brown ; the throat and breast greyish white ; belly cream-
white ; the sides and flanks pale brown, streaked with darker :
beak and feet bro\ATi.

THE EEDGE SrARROW. 67

is now sounding away over the green corn-field.
One might fancy that our warbler was telling
some talc of sorrow to the unpitying winds, or
complaining like some poet to the boughs of the
wood, or to the Dryads, with which his fancy
peopled them. A ])eculiar shake of the wing is
an accompaniment to the song, which, though
little varied, is very sweet and gentle. The strain
is usually short, and the bird sits perched upon
the hawthorn or maple, which shadows the hedge-
bank or skirts the wood, or sings it forth from
some bough of the garden or orchard-tree. It is
heard very early in the morning, and is better at
tliat time, and at the close of eve, than in the
middle of the day, though it may be heard at any
hour, again and again, and is sung nearly through-
out the year, save during the almost universal
silence of autumn. It was probably of this bird
that the poet wrote : —

** I thought the sjiarrow's note from heaven
Singing at dawn, from the alder bough ;

I brought him home in his nest at even. —
He sings the song, but it pleases not now ;

For I did not bring home the river and sky ;

He sang to my ear — they sang to my eye."

But to retm-n to our sober little bird, which, if

68 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

its song is sweet, is at least not remarkable for its
beauty of colour, being clothed in a homely suit
of reddish brown, streaked with a darker tint.
It is known in many counties by the names of
Hedge Chanter, and Dunnoch, and is also called
Shufflewing, from its habit of shaking its wings
perpetually. It is veiy active in all its move-
ments, hopping quickly about our gardens ; in
spring and autumn, making its meal on the in-
sects, worms, and slugs which it finds there, but
never offending the gardener by robbing him of
his fruit. But when the frost and snows have
killed the insects, and all the flower-seeds have
been scattered by the wind, our little warbler
comes to claim the kindness of man, and surely
as well deserves a crumb from our table, as does
the equally social and less timid robin. Then,
too, the hedge sparrow, accompanied by its mate,
finds its way into tlie rick-yard, and hovers about
the lofts and granaries, where the corn is stored,
and picks up the scattered grain, till warmer
beams shall reawaken the insect world, and the
little benumbed creatures which lie hidden under
the gi-ecn mosses shall agc\in serve him for food
more to his taste.

THE ALPINE ACCENTOR. G9

The hedge sparrow remains with us all the
winter, and is common in all parts of England,
building its nest as early as March. This is
usually placed in some bush, which being yet
bare, leaves it exposed to danger, so that the blue
eggs which it contains are an easy prey to the
young bird-nester, and are among the most nu-
merous of these treasures which arc threaded and
hung up in cottages. The nest so easily found is
often used by the cuckoo, as a home in which to
place her egg, whicli being afterwards hatched by
the fostering care of the unconscious warbler, it
is commonly said that the hedge sparrow is the
cuckoo's best friend.

An allied species to this, the Alpine Accentor,*
[Accentor alphius,) is too rarely seen in our island
to deserve a lengthened notice. It is a common
bird on the Swiss Alps, and often pleases the car
of the traveller who wanders over the mountains,
and stops to share tlie hospitality of the monks
of St. Bernard. Unlike its congener, the Hedge
Accentor, it does not perch on trees or bushes, but

* The Alpine Accentor much resembles the Hedge Sparrow,
but is rather larger, and may be readily distinguished by its
white throat, studded with small black spots.

70 OUE NATIVE SONGSTERS.

hops about the ground, or on rocks, seeming to
love the companionship of man. One of these
birds was killed in the garden of King's Col-
lege, Cambridge, in November, 1822, and one in
the following year in the garden of the Deanery,
at Wells, in Somersetshire ; and Mr. Yarrell has
remarked that the resemblance of tlie steeple-
crowned stone edifices of Cambridge, and of the
Deanery, to the pointed and elevated rocks of
their own peculiar haunts, may probably liave
been the attraction to the birds in both the loca-
lities referred to.

Flocks of little birds may be seen in March,
which will, as sprinf:: advances, fill our now almost
silent woodlands with melodies. Among the ear-
liest of our spring arrivals is the Chiff-chafi",* or,
as it is often called, Chip-chap {S>/h'ia hippoJais).
If its song is not remarkable for variety or rich-
ness, yet it is pleasing, because it reminds us that
the singing birds which have sought in winter for
a more congenial climate, are now coming back
to their old haunts; and the notes which would

* The Chiff-chaff is four inches and thi-ee quarters in length.
Whole upper parts ashy brown ; lower parts dull brownish white,
tinged with yellow; a pale streak over each eye; beak and feet
dark brown.

THE CIlIFf-CH.SJF. 71

liardly attract us amid the full chorus of song,
are welcome now that song is scarce. This song is
sometimes sung as early as the middle of March,
and towards the end of that month is common.
All the summer it is to be heard at intervals, and
the hardy little bird lingers with us in some years
till late in October, coming in company with the
titmice and crested wren, to the gardens or fir plan-
tations, and uttering its cheering notes often for
many hours together, for some days previous to its
departm'c. Sometimes this bird sings on the wing,
as it darts across the garden path in search of
insects, and at others it utters its strain from the
higli branches of the trees of those shady woods and
tliickets which it loves to haunt. Large gardens,
too, furnish a favourite resort to the chilf-chafF,
where it is most persevering in spring in clearing
the aphides off the honeysuckles, rose-trees, and
other bushes. And Avhen in the latter part of
March the golden balls of the willow-tree attract
by their sweet perfume, an occasional butterfly, a
wasp, a bee, or some other winged creature, then
our elegant little bird may be seen, as Mr. Knapp
has said, itself almost like a coloured catkin too,
chasing the insects right men'ily around the wil-

72 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

low, or otlier bough, or making its way to the
orchard, not to eat the young Luds, but to peck
out tlic larva3 of the different species of toririjc,
which lie enfolded in their green coils. The gar-
dener may welcome the bird there all the summer
through, for neither apple, nor cheny, nor plum
will tempt it to plunder, while it will clear the
trees of the insects, and feed unsparingly on the
small caterpillars, and the downy moths, and the
gnats and emmets, which may revel among the
trees, or gi-ass, or flowers.

The chift-chafi:' is, with the exception of the
wheat-ear, the earliest of the spring visitors ; and
it is the smallest of tliem all. Mr. Broderip men-
tions having received one iu a cover, together
with a written half sheet of paper, franked by
the penny stamp. The little bird becomes very
tame in captivity, and shows gi'cat aftection to its
owner. Mr. Sweet, in his " British Warblers,"
mentions one which would take a fly from his
finger, and would settle upon the hand which held
a spoon filled with milk, of which it was ver}'
fond, following the person who carried it round
and round the room, sometimes darting to the
ceiling and bringing thence a fly. By degTces it

THE CUIFF-CHAFF. 73

became so familiar Avitli its master, tliat it would
sit and sleep on his knee as he sate by the fire ;
and would never attempt to fly out of the room,
even when the windows were open. ]\Ir. Sweet
wished to ascertain if it was willing to quit him,
and tried to get it into the garden ; but though its
favourite spoonful of milk was ofll'red as a persua-
sive, it was difficult to induce the bird to leave
the room, and twice it returned thither. The third
flight that it attempted, was to a small tree, from
which it again came to taste the milk ; then it
alighted on some chickweed ; then bathed and
betook itself to a holly bush to dry its plumes.
Here, however, the little bird was lost among tlic
leaves. Its master's voice seemed unheard, and
most probably the impulses of its migi*atory na-
ture came povv'erfully upon it. Perchance some
strange instinctive longing for a warmer land,
with its fruits and flowers, and gauzy insects;
some yearnings for companions, some restless de-
sire for flight proved stronger than even its affec-
tion for its master, and aAvay it went, to be seen
no more, though all its species had long since
departed, and were gone to see if November were
less dreary in other lands than in ours.

74 OUR NATIVE SOXGSTEKS.

The nest of the chifF-chafF is an oval structure,
with a small aperture near the top. It is made of
coarse dry grasses, externally coated with leaves,
and lined with feathers. It is usually placed near
the ground, in a low bush, or sometimes amid the
thick grass on a bank ; and it contains six white
eggs, speckled witli purplish red at the larger
end. John Clare, who knew so well the dilferent
objects which are to be seen by those who dwell
in the country, has well described this nest. He
calls the bird the Petty-chap, and it is well
known to naturalists by the name of Lesser
Petty- chap : —

■ Well ! in my many walks I've rarely found
A place less likely for a bird to form
Its nest— close by the rut-gull'd wagon road,
And on the almost bare foot-trodden ground,
With scarce a clump of grass to keep it warm !
A^^lere not a thistle spreads its spears abroad,
Or prickly bush, to shield it from harm's way;
And yet so snugly made, that none may spy
It out, save peradventure. You and I
Had surely pass'd it in our walk to-day.
Had chance not led us by it ! Nay, e'en now,
Had not the old bird heard us trampling by.
And flutter' d out, we had not seen it lie
Brown as the road-way side. Small bits of hay
Pluck'd from the old propt haystack's bleachy brow,

THE CHIFF-CH.VJF. 75

Aud wither'd leaves, make up its outward wall,

Which from the guarl'd oak-dotterel yearly fall,

And in the old hedge-bottom rot away.

Built like an oven, — through a little hole,

Scarcely admitting e'en two fingers in,

Hard to discern, the birds snug entrance win.

'Tis lined with feathers, warm as silken stole.

Softer than seats of down for painless ease,

And full of eggs, scarce bigger even than peas !

Here's one most delicate, with spots as small

As dust, and of a faint and pinky red.

Stop ! here's the bird. That woodman at the gap

Frighten'd him from the hedge : 'tis olive green.

Well ! I declare, it is the Petty-chap !

Not bigger than the wren, and seldom seen.

I've often found her nest in chance's way,

When I, in pathless woods did idly roam ;

But never did I dream, until to-day,

A spot like this would be her chosen home."

The chlff-cliafF is also called the Dark-legged
Petty-chap, to distinguish it from the willow
wren, which it much resembles, though smaller,
behig however at once distinguished from it by
the dark brownish, almost black, colour of tlie
legs and feet. Mr. Blyth remarks, that there is
a peculiarity in its song not generally noticed : its
common note, tick, tack, is known to us all ; but
this gentleman remarks, that after repeating this,
seven or eight times in monotonous succession, it
frequently alternates it with another sound, re-

76 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

sembling crah, crah, or cruh, reminding one of
tlie harsh tones of the Reedlings.

The Scotch have an okl proverb respecting
small people, — *' Little folks are soon angiy, their
heart's near to their mou' ;" and it might be quoted
in relation to this tiny bird, which is of a most
quaiTclsome disposition, even daring to attack
birds much larger than itself. The writer just
alluded to, remarks, " Last spring I was walking
under some tall elms, from the top of which a
chiff-chaff was, at intervals, repeating his double
cry. A large common, overspread witli furze, lay
in one direction, while thoiLsands of the song
petty-chaps were warbling merrily. At length
one of these settled on a bush close under the
trees, and began to sing ; whereupon down came
the little chitf-chalf from above, and I witnessed
a long-sustained battle betsveen the two, both
warbling their diverse notes in defiance, and by
turns attacking and pursuing each other. Each
indeed seemed to consider the other an antagonist
of its own species, for it is seldom that different
species quaiTcl, though a few will drive away all
intruders from their abode." This writer adds
that there are, however, several aUied species.

TUE WILLOW WREN. 77

which seem quite to regard each other as enemies,
as the robin and red-tail, the wliin and the stone-
chats ; and these will quarrel with each other,
thouG^h amiable enough with birds less nearly
allied ; and on this principle the different kind of
])etty-chaps arc very apt to fight in captivity.

Another early bird among our summer visitors
is the Willow AVren* [Sylvia ^roc/^/Zw.s-), called also
Yellow Wren, Hay bird, Garden Petty-chaps,
Huck-muck, or Ground Wren, — the last name
alluding, doubtless, to the place of its nest. The
song of this bird may be heard in April, and
is very loud and clear, making the woods to echo
with the sound. A writer in the " Magazine of
Natural History" remarks, — "Its song, if deserving
(^f that name, has never been properly described
in our works of natural history. It consists of
whistling notes, which it runs through the gamut
of B, thus comprising ten notes : the latter ones
are very soft, and run into each other ; and though
it would thus appear anxious to be well grounded
in the principles of music, by thoroughly and con-

* The Willow Wren is about five inches in length. Upper
parts dull olive, more brown on the wings and tail ; under parts
whitish, tinged with yellow, except on the belly ; a pale streak
over each eye : legs and feet pale brown.

78 OUE NATIVE SONGSTERS.

stantly practising the gamut like a true musician,
yet it never an*ives at greater musical perfection ;
and its notes, though soft and melodious, are not
sufficiently diversified to merit the name of song."

This is a common bird in slirubberies and
hedgerows in all parts of Britain, except in tlie
counties of Cornwall and Devonshire. Some-
times its song is to be heard as it wings its way
among the trees from bough to bough ; at others
it is sung while the little bird is perched on the
summit of some high tree, or sits among the
yellow furze or broom of our lieath lands. A
merry bird it seems, — all life and animation,
hopping over the ground in search of insects, or
catching them on the wing, and passing by the
garden fruits with indifference, save where they
serve as an attraction to insects, and thus afford
a meal. When in captivity, this bird soon be-
comes familiar, and sings long and loud ; and it
has been known to enter the open windows of
houses, and to tly about the room for some time,
occasionally uttering a little shaqi note. The
willow wren quits us in September, and sings a
little in autumn, but not with the vigour or joy
of spring.

THE WILLOW WREN. 79

The nest of this bird is composed of gi-asses,
mosses, and dried leaves, and lined with feathers.
It ia of an oval or rounded shape, having a small
opening near tlic top, and containing six or seven
eggs, wliich arc white, spotted witli reddi.sh broAvn,
the spots being most numerous at the larger end.
It is usually built in ^lay, and is concealed among
tlic moss or gi'ass of the hedge-bank.

An interesting account of tlie attachment of
tlie willow wren to its nest, is given by a lady
who writes thus in the " Field Naturalist," — " In
the spring of 1832, walking through an orchard,
I was attracted by something on the gi'ound in
tlic form of a large ball, and composed of dry
grass. I took it up in my hands, and upon
examination, found it was a domed nest of the
willow wren. Concerned at my precipitation,
I put it down again as near the same place as
I could suppose, but with very little liope that
the arcliitect would ever claim it again after
such an attack. I was, however, agreeably sur-
prised to find next day tliat the little occupier was
still proceeding with its work. The feathers in-
side were increased, as I could perceive by the alte-
ration in colour. In a few days two eggs were laid,

80 OUU NATIVE SONGSTERS.

and I thought my little protege safe from harm,
when a flock of ducks that had strayed from the
poultry-yard, with their usual curiosity, ^went
straight to the nest, which was very conspicuous,
as tlie grass had not grown high enough to conceal
it, and witli their bills spread it quite open, dis-
placed the eggs, and made it a complete ruin. I
now despaired ; but immediately, on driving the
authors of the mischief away, I tried to restore the
nest to something like its proper form, and ])laced
the eggs inside. That same day, I was astonished to
find an addition of another cgg^ and in about a
week, of four more. The bird sate, and ultimately
brought out seven young ones ; but I cannot help
supposing it a singular instance of attachment
and confidence, after being twice so nidely dis-
turbed."

Birds in general show great attachment to
their nests, and the notion that they will forsake
them if the eggs are touched, seems quite incor-
rect. Mr. Sweet, who tried many experiments on
this subject, was of opinion that they would not
forsake the nest wliile laying, let the eggs be
handled ever so much. He considers that it is the
fright endured by the bird on being driven out,

THE WOOD WREN. 81

which induces it to quit its little home, and return
to it no more; and he remarks, that almost all
birds will forsake the first nest in the season, if
frightened out of it once or twice. The redbreast,
the wren, blackbird, missel and song-thrushes,
will all do this, and will commence building
anotlicr home. But the bird seems to become
bolder in this respect, as the season advances, and
it has had more experience ; for after building one
or two nests, it will not be driven away, even if
disturbed while sitting, but will retiu*n again and
again. Some birds will even sufier themselves to
be taken out with the liand, and put back again,
and yet so cling to their homes, that even this
teiTor will not scare them away.

The Wood Wren,* or Wood Warbler, or Green
Wren {Sf/Iria si/lcicola), is the Willie Muftis of
the Scotch peasant. It is a larger bird than either
the chift-chaff, or the willow wren, but so similar,
that until recently the three species liave not
been clearly distinguished from each other. Its

* The Wood Wren may be distingmshed from the Willow
Wreu by having the upper parts of a brighter gi-een, the eye-
streak, the throat, breast, and flanks, clear yellow ; and the belly
piu-e white.

G

82 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

notes are not so sweet as those of the last-named
bird, but are more like the chirpings of the merry
grasshopper. First the strain commences with the
sounds .of " twee, twee, twee," oft repeated, and
sounded very long ; then follow the same sounds,
uttered -with great rapidity, and accompanied by
a vibration of its wings. This songis usually sung
from the summit of some old oak or beech, for it
is in old woods, where the trees are thick and
high, that this bird chiefly delights to dwell. It
arrives in England at about the end of April, and
leaves us in September; and it may be heard
singing its shrill song almost all the summer,
sometimes uttering it on the wing. Unlike most
of our singing birds, it does not moult in autumn,
but remains in its old plumage, and migrates
without resigning its plumes.

This bird is very skilful in catching insects,
either while on the wing, or when searching for
them diligently in the crevices of the bark, or
among the foliage of trees. It conceals its domed
nest so cleverly, as that only an experienced bird-
nester will find it out ; but it may be distinguished
from the very similar nests of the allied species,
by the absence of feathers on the inside, it being

THE DARTFORD WARBLER. S3

invariably lined with line grass and hair. Words-
wortli's verses well describe it : —

" So warm, so beautiful withal,
In perfect fitness for its aim ;
That to the kind, by special grace.
Their instinct sm*ely came.

" And when for their abodes they seek
An opportune recess,
The Hermit has no finer eye
For shadowy quietness.

" Oft in sequester'd lanes they build,
^^^lere, till the bird's return,
Her eggs within the nest repose.
Like rehcs in an um."

The eggs of this bird arc six in number, and
have a white gi'ound, which is, however, almost
hidden by numerous spots and speckles of dark
purplish red or ash colour.

The rare Dartford Warbler* {MelizopJiilus Dart-
fordiensis), sings as early as the month of February,
and for its sweet, though hurried song, deserves
mention among our singing birds. It is somewliat
weak, but very pleasing. This bird is often

* The Dartford Warbler is about five inches in length. Upper
plumage generally greyish black, approaching to brown on the
wings and tail ; throat, breast, and sides chestnut, speckled with
white on the chin ; belly white ; beak black, with pale edges :
feet pale brown.

84 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

called the furze wren, because it is among the
spring boughs and golden blooms of that plant
that it sings and builds. It is a very shy bird, and
when the voice or footfall gives token of an ap-
proaching rambler over the downs, it reti'cats
before him, passing from bush to bush with won-
derful alacrity and skill, so that it makes an almost
certain escape. It hides its nest, too, in the very
thickest part of the bush, concealing it so well that
few could find its tiny eggs of white hue, spotted
at the larger end with grey and yellowish brown.

This bird frequents open bushy heaths and
commons, and sings its song while quivering over
the furze or broom ; or it darts along on eager
wing to catch the insects which have come thither
to sip the honey from the fragrant flowers. Here,
too, it gathers the dried grasses or the long stalks of
goosegrass, of which it fabricates its nest, entwin-
ing them with young and tender branches of the
furze, and adding to the fabric a clump of wool
which has probably been torn fi'om the coat of
some sheep which came too near to the prickly
branches to find its meal. The whole length of
the bird is rather more than five inches. In
Provence, where it has been observed to frequent

THE DARTFORD WARBLER. 85

cabbage gardens, it is called Fittc-chou or Fitt-chou.
Its English name was given because it was first
remarked at Bcxley Heath, near Dartford, in Kent,
in the year 1733.

A writer in Loudon's Magazine of Natural
History, well known to the readers of that work
by his valuable contributions under the name of
Rusticus of Ciodahning, says that this bird is very
common in his neighbourhood, though almost
unknown in other districts. His characteristic
description of the bird is too good to be omitted.
"If," says this writer, " you have ever watched a
common wren (a kitty wren we call her), you must
have observed that she cocked her tail bolt upright,
strained her little beak at right angles, and her
throat in the same fashion, to make the most of
her fizgig of a song, and ke])t jumping and jerking
and frisking about, for all the world as though she
was worked by steam ; well, that's the precise
character of the Dartford warbler, or, as we call it,
the furze WTcn. AVlien the leaves are off the trees,
and the chill winter winds have driven the summer
birds to the olive gardens of Spain, or across the
.Straits, the furze wren is in the height of his
enjoyment. I have seen them by dozens, skipping

86 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

about the furze, lighting for a moment upon the
very point of the sprigs, and instantly diving out
of sight again, singing out their angiy impatient
ditty for ever the same. Perched on the outside
of a good tall nag, and riding quietly along tlie
outside, while the fox-hounds have been drawing
the furze fields, I liave seen the tops of the furze
quite alive witli these birds. They are, however,
very hard to slioot ; darting down directly they
see the flasli or hear the cap crack, I do not kno^v
which. I have seen excellent shots miss them,
while rabbit-shooting with beagles. They prefer
those places where the fm*ze is very thick, high, and
difficult to get in."

This bird has been found in Surrey, Devonshire,
Cornwall, and Kent, and is believed to remain
with us throughout the year. Its food consists of
various insects.

Smaller tlian any other bird whose song gives
music to our spring woods, is the delicate Gold-
Crest,* or Gold-crested Wren, or Marigold Finch,

* The Gold-crest is three inches and a half in length. Upper
parts Tello^^^sh-olive ; wing blackish, crossed by two narrow bands
of white, and a broad iutennipted one of black; crouTi-feathers
bright yellow tipped with orange, the cro\\Ti bordered with black ;
under parts yellowish-grey; beak black; feet brown.

TUE GOLD- CREST. 87

as it is sometimes termed [Regains auricapillus) . Its
lengtli is about three inclies and a half, and its weight
no more than seventy-five or eighty grains. It is
called also kinglet : and its Latin name, Regidus,
signifying also a little king, was evidently bestowed
in consequence of the soft silky feathers of its head,
which arc orange-coloured in the centre, shading
off, on the sides, to a delicate yellow thit. A
stripe of black runs along each side of the crest,
and contrasts beautifully with the gayer hue.
The beauty, both of colour and form, of this little
bird is extreme, and its movements are most agile
and gi'aceful, no bird being more active tlian this.
Now the gold-crests wliisk througli the dark
branches of the fir-trees, like so many sylphs ; now
tliey hang liovering over a flower, singing all the
while their melodious notes; and again they may
be seen clinging, indifferently, in all positions to
the bouglis, sometimes with their feet upwards.
Being so small as that a leaf may cover them, they
are often hidden by tlie verdant screen of summer ;
though when the wind is sighing through the bare
branches of winter, they may be seen gathering in
small companies, looking diligently into the cre-
vices of the bark, or betaking themselves to the

88 OUR ^'ATm: songsters.

greener fir-trees for a shelter, most closely in-
specting every twig for the insects which swarm
on the trmik and among the foliage of the dark
yew-tree, or the towering pine. From their
being so easily secreted among the leaves, some
AVTiters have thought the gold-crests less abun-
dant in our island than they are now known
to be. They appear to be very general in the
northern parts of Britain, haunting especially the
somewhat moist woods where the beech and fir
overtop the gTowth of brambles and other under-
wood at their base, nothing seeming to delight
them so well as tlie sombre foliage of the cedar,
the yew and the pine.

It seems wonderful that so delicate a bird can
brave the severity of our winters, and it can only
be by means of its incessant activity that it can do
so. The usual number of gold-crests is greatly
increased in autumn by the arrival of others which
come to pass the winter here, and it appears highly
probable, that in some seasons, some of our gold-
crests migrate into other lands. Though when
in our woods they scarcely make a longer flight
than from tree to tree, these little creatures can
brave the winds of ocean, sometimes settling on the

THE GOLD-CHEST. 89

tackle of the ships which are sailing across the
waters, and being taken up in great exhaustion.
Mr. Selby saw thousands of kinglets arrive on the
sea-shore and sand-banks of Northumberland, after
a very severe gale, in October 1822. The poor
little birds were so fatigued, either by the length
of their voyage, or by an unfavourable turn of the
wind, that they were unable to rise from the
ground, and large numbers were consequently
taken and destroyed. In another case mentioned
by the same ornithologist, in January 1823, a few
days previous to a long-continued snow-storm
in Scotland and the north of England, all the
gold-crests, natives as Avell as strangers, liad
entirely disappeared from those districts, nor
did any return, on the approach of spring, to the
haunts which they were wont to enliven by their
presence.

Though this bird is enabled, by means of per-
petual exercise, to guard against the extreme cold,
and though it finds a way to secrete itself in places
where frost cannot reach it, yet it seems likely
that many gold-crests perish in our most severe
winters, notwithstanding their bustling activity
and resources. The Hon. and Eev. W. Herbert

90 OLTx NATIVE SONGSTERS.

says, that in confinement the least cold proves
fatal to them. This gentleman once took half a
dozen of these golden wrens at the beginning of
winter ; they became exceedingly tame, and throve
well upon eggs and meat. " At roosting time,"
lie observes, " there was always a whimsical
conflict among them for inside places, as being tlie
warmest, which ended, of course, in the weakest
going to the wall. The scene began with a low
whistling call among them to roost, and the birds
on the extreme right and left, flew on the backs
of those in the centre, and squeezed themselves
into the middle. A fresh couple from the flanks
immediately renewed the attack upon the centre,
and the conflict continued till the light began to foil
them. A severe frost in February killed all but
one of them in a night, though in a furnished
drawing-room. The survivor was preserved in
a little cage by burying it every night under the
sofa cushions ; but liaving been, one sharp morning,
taken from under them before the room was
sufficiently warmed by the fire, though perfectly
well when removed, it was dead in ten minutes."

White has remarked that the golden-crested
wren will stand unconcerned till you come within

THE GOLD- CREST. 91

three or four yards of it. Yet, tlioiigli not of a
mistrustful nature, the little bird is really very
timid on the approach of actual danger. If the
bough on which it is sitting is struck sharply with
a stick, it immediately drops to the ground from
terror, and is often taken up dead. Those who
require it for a preserved specimen, find this a
better mode of taking it than with the gun. In
our country the bird is not an article of food, but,
small as it is, it is eaten on some parts of the
Continent, and Montbeillard tells us that the
markets of Nuremberg abound with this little
gold-crest, great numbers being taken in the
environs of the city, by means of the bird-call.
Tliey become very tame in confinement, though
their small size enables them sometimes to creep
through the meshes of a net, and make their escape.
Their notes are sweet and pleasing, though not
strong. They have little variety, and the strain
temiinates abruptly. The beauty of these song-
sters has been well described by Gisborn, in his
" \Yalks in a Forest."

*' Aloft in mazy course the golden wren
Sports on the boughs : she who, her slender form,
Yauntincr and radiant crest, half dares to vie

92 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

With those gay wanderers, whose effulgent wings
With insect hum still flutter o'er the pride
Of Indian gardens."

Nor is tlie nest of this little bird less remarkable
for beauty than is the bird itself. This is very
large in proportion to its architect, and has very
thick walls, composed chietiy of green moss
fashioned into a cup-like form, well interlaced with
spiders' webs, and covered over at the top, save
where one aperture admits the bird. The inside
might rather be said to be tilled than lined with
feathers, so ])lcntifully does the bird place them
for the warmtli and comfort of her young; and the
dwelling is swung, like a hammock, beneath the
bough of the yew, or cedar, or larch-tree, or some-
times placed among the i\y. The gold-crest would
seem to love well the shadow of green boughs, for it
often hangs the nest in such a manner as that a
sweeping branch shall fall over it, screening it
alike from the hot sun and the eye of the passer-
by. The eggs are from seven to ten in number,
and of a pale yellowish brown.

The gold-crest is very generally distributed
over the southern counties of Enc:land, and is
plentiful in Wales. It is also common in the

i^ \'

)

THE WREN. 93

counties on the north of London. There is
another British species, called the Fire-crested
Regulus [Regidus ignkajiillus) ^ but it is a very
rare bird here, though abundant in the forests of
Germany. It much resembles our gold-crest, but
has three dark lines on the side of the head, and
is hence called by the French triple handeau.

Who that notices birds has not a kindly thought
for that sweet songster of the winter day, that
familiar little bird, the common Wren, or Kitty
Wren, or Jenny Wren * as it is often called ? the
Troglodytes Europceus of the ornithologist. Every
country child gives it a welcome, as it hops about
the garden or beside the arbour, glad enough,
when snows and frosts are come, to share the
meal of the robin. Like the redbreast it is a
privileged bird, and the legends are of great
antiquity Avliich describe it as peculiarly protected
by the care of Him who made it. Grose remarks
that it is held extremely unlucky to kill a cricket,
a lady-bug. a swallow, martin, robin redbreast,
or wren. It is supposed, he says, that any one

* The Wren is nearly four inches in length. Plumage red-
dish-brown, crossed by narrow bars of blackish; the ground-
colour is paler on the under parts, fading to light buff on the
breast and throat ; beak brown ; feet pale brown.

94 OUR nati\t: songsters.

killing them would infallibly break a bone, or
meet with some misfortune during the year ; but
the old legend no longer prevails with respect
to the insect favourites, with the exception of the
cricket ; and the redbreast and wTen seem the
only privileged birds of modern times.

It is remarkable that a bird thus shielded by
tradition in one country, should be the object
of cruel treatment in another, on the ground of
ancient legend. In Ireland, however, a barbarous
custom, of great antiquity, prevails in modern
days, of hunting the wren on Christmas-day.
though happily the usage is becoming less frerpiont
than formerly. The peasants are accustomed at
this season, just wlicn the poor bird needs most
the kindness of man, to chase it through the
hedges, and to beat it to death with sticks. This
they accomplish by means of two sticks, with one
of which they strike the buslies, while the other is
thrown at the wren. Mr. Thompson, in treating
of the birds in Ireland, remarks that it was the
boast of an old man, who died at Kerry, at the age
of a hundred years, that he had hunted the wren
for the last eighty years on a Christmas-day. On
St. Stephen's-day the village children carry alx)ut

THE WREX. 95

an i\'y-bu.s]i, decked with variously coloured
ribbons, among which the slaughtered birds are
exhibited. They go from house to house, collecting
money, and singing the well-known and foolish
song commencing thus, —

"The wran, the wran, the king of all birds,
St. Stephen's day was cot in the furze,
Although he is little, his family's grate.
Put your hand in your pocket, and give us a thrate,
Sing holly, sing ivy, sing ivy, sing holly," &c. &c.

A little inoffensive bird like the wren seems ill to
merit this traditionary hatred, but Aubrey, in his
Miscellanies, relates the tale which is its supposed
origin. After having mentioned the last battle
in the North of Ireland, between the Protestants
and Roman Catholics, in Glinsuly, in the county
of Donegal, he says, "Near the same place a party
of the Protestants had been surprised sleeping, by
the popish Irish, were it not for several wrens,
that just wakened them, by dancing and peeking
on the dinims, as the enemy was approaching.
For this reason the wild Irish mortally hate them
to this day, and killing them whenever they can
catch them, they teach their children to thrust
them full of thorns ; you'll see sometimes on holi-

96 OUR ^'ATTVE SONGSTEES.

days a whole parisli running like madmen from
hedge to hedge, a wren-lmnting."

Sonnini records a ci-uel hunting of the Avren
common in some parts of France, at the latter end
of December, but in that country a different
tradition accounts for it.

But leaving superstitious practices, which are
too often mingled up with the elements of cruelty,
we must return to our bird, the smallest of all
our singers save the gold-crest. Its song, short,
sweet, and lively as it is, loses nothing from the
fact of being heard when none else save that of the
robin is likely to arrest our step, as we hasten over
the frosty ground. One could hardly believe that
so loud a song issued from so small a throat; but
the bird gives us full means of ascertaining that it
does so, for it sits perched on the top of the farm-
yard stack, or on the bough of the hedge-row, or
on the gooseberry bush, singing as merrily as if it
were summer, and apparently well-pleased to have
a listener, as if it scarcely expected that we should
come abroad in January to hear it. Nor can we
mistake the wren for another bird, for its very
smallness serves to identify it, and no sooner has it
uttered one short stave, than it is away to another

THE WREN. 97

spot, making short, weak flights, or hopping about
with drooping wings and raised tail, making a low
chirring sound. If alarmed by our near or sudden
approach, it winds its way most ingeniously through
the hedges or bushes, and again we see it at
a short distance a minute afterwards, flying off a
little farther, and creeping away from us as a
mouse might do. Though it does not come with
the robin to peck its meal from the window-sill,
or around the breakfast table, it ventures into the
farm-yards and gardens for what it may chance
to find, though doubtless in severe seasons many
wrens die of hunger. Treat our little jenny- wren
but gently, however, and do not alarm it by a
rash footstep, and it will love your company, and
flutter for some paces before you, as if it intended
to show you the way, seeming all the time to
mark you with a most inquisitive look, as appa-
rently not only observing your actions, but even
scanning your physiognomy.

The wren builds early in spring, generally about
March, placing its nest against the side of a tree,
a hay-rick, the wall of a house, or some other
sheltered spot ; and it often shows much sagacity
by making it to correspond in colour with the object
H

98 OUK NATIVE SONGSTERS.

near it ; thus, when affixing it to a mossy-covered
trunk, green is the predominant hue ; while,
when near the haj-rick, a Large amount of dried
grasses renders the nest of similar colour; and again,
when sheltered by the ivy, the moss prevails. This
ingenuity is not, however, universally practised by
the wren, and, as Mr. Jennings has observed,
something must depend on the case or difficulty
with which the materials can be procured. This
writer remarks, tliat when the nest is made wholly
of green moss, and he has seen many so made,
it is much more neatly and exactly defined than
when composed of any other material. Grey
lichens and grasses are used in some cases by the
wren, and the interior is lined either with hair or
feathers, and contains about eight or ten eggs,
though sometimes there are as many as eighteen.
They are of a yellowish white speckled with
brown.

Many little acts of ingenuity in rendering the
nest less obvious to the passer-by, have been re-
corded by those who have noticed birds. Mr. Jesse
tells us of one that he had in his possession, which
being built among some litter, thrown into the
yard, so nearly resembled the surrounding objects.

THE WREN. 99

that it was only discovered by means of the bird
flying out of it. He adds, some of the straws
were so thick, that one wonders how so small
a bird could have used them. Mr. Yarrell ob-
serves of this, that in such cases the wren was
in some measure influenced by the proximity of
materials; but several instances are recorded by
naturalists, in whicli design is so marked, that we
hardly know whether to call it instinct or reason.

" I was much pleased this day, June 14th," says
Mr. Knapp, " by detecting the stratagems of a com-
mon wren to conceal its nest from observation.
It had formed a liollow space in the thatch, on the
inside of my cow-shed, in which it had placed its
nest by the side of a rafter, and finished it with its
usual neatness ; but lest the orifice of its cell should
engage attention, it had negligently hung a rag-
ged piece of moss on the straw-work, concealing
the entrance, and apparently proceeding from the
rafter; and so perfect was the deception, that I
should not have noticed it, though tolerably obser-
vant of such things, had not the bird betrayed her
secret and darted out. Now from what operative
cause did this stratagem proceed? Habit it was not;
it seemed like an after-thought ; danger was per-

100 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

ceived, and the contrivance which a contemplative
being would have provided, was resorted to."

Nor should we here forget the poet's testimony to
a little contrivance of this sort, narrated by Words-
worth, in his poem called the Wren's Nest. A pair
of these birds had placed their cozy dwelling in a
green covert, made by the branches of a pollard oak.

"But she who plann'd this mossy lodge,
Mistrusting her evasive skill,
Had to a primrose look'd for aid,
Her wishes to fulfil.

"High on the trunk's projecting bough,
And fix'd, an infant's span, above
The buddim? flowers, peep'd forth the nest,
The prettiest of the grove."

In later days, the poet wandered to the oak to
show to some friends the nest placed so prettily
there, when he could see it no longer, and believed
that some rude hand had carried it away.

"Just three days after, passing by

In clearer light, the moss-built cell
I saw, espied its shaded mouth.
And felt that all was well.

" The primrose for a veil had spread
The largest of her upright leaves;
And thus for purposes benign
A simple flower deceives."

THE WREN. 101

A very singular circumstance occurs respecting
wrens' nests. Many are found in an incomplete
state, and it would seem that, after having been
begun, they were abandoned by the bird, which,
on second thought, deemed that the site had been,
in some way or other, ill-chosen. These half*
finished empty nests are often found in very con-
spicuous places, instead of being well planned for
concealment.

As the old Irish song says of the wren, " Her
family is grate." She has two broods in a season,
and as many as sixteen young birds have been
sometimes found in one nest. There must be much
to do in feeding a family like this, for in common
with all other nestlings, they are very voracious,
and the wrens are not far fliers, and must therefore
seek their food very near their home. The nest
is large and deep, and some of the young brood
must be placed at so great a distance from the
aperture, that one would fancy they must be sorely
inconvenienced for want of light and air. There,
however, they thrive, and, as Graham says, are

" Fed in the dark, not one forgot."

Jt was doubtless because of this dome-like and

102 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

gloomy dwelling, that the ancients termed the A\Ten
Troglodytes, or dweller in caves.

The wren is a most valuable little bird in rid-
ding plants of the numerous insects which in-
fest them, and it may often be seen, with its tail
raised, liunting every bud and leaf, and peering
with its bright eyes into every crevice of the
bough, chirring, and evidently enjoying its occupa-
tion. Cabbages, peas, beans, lettuces, flower-
stems, are all searched and cleared; and when
these resources fail, and the cold drives the wren
nearer to the homes of man, it hops about the
thatch of the barn or cottage, or by the side of
the drains, or among the straw of the farm-yard,
hunting up any dormant insects which lie hidden,
to open to their summer life when sunshine is
come.

A gentleman who watched a pair of wrens with
a brood of little ones, found that they went from
the nest, and returned with insects in their mouths,
from forty to sixty times in an hour ; and in one
particular hour, the birds carried food to their
young seventy-one times. He considers that they
worked thus twelve times a-day, and that, taking
the medium of fifty times in an hour, they thus

THE WREN. 103

cleared from the plants at least six hundred insects
in the course of the day. This calculation is made
on the supposition that the two birds took only a
single insect each time. But it is highly probable
that they carried off more than one at every
flight.

Notwithstanding that the wren is hardy, and
seems to enjoy the clear bright days of winter,
yet probably in extremely severe seasons many of
the species die of cold and want. During this
period, they seek shelter in holes of walls, and under
the eaves of corn and hay-stacks. Mr. Selby found
the dead bodies of several wrens in an old deserted
nest, where they had probably assembled to crowd
closely together, for the sake of warmth and
shelter from the storm; and a number of wrens
rolled together, as in a ball, have been found in
a hole of a wall, to which they had apparently
come for the night. It is probable that many
of our little birds may thus, during winter, keep
close together, and so preserve the heat of them-
selves and each other. When kept in cages, wrens
are generally supplied with a well-covered and
lined box in which they may pass the night.

It is difficult to conjecture why the wren should,

104 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

from earliest ages, have been called the king of
the birds, and this not merely bj ancient writers,
but by the peasantry of almost every land. Our
little gold-crest seems fitted by his beautiful coro-
nal to bear the name of Kinglet, the synonyrae of
which is so general ; but the wren is small and
feeble, and lias withal no robe of royalty, nor the
crown of gokl. The old writers tell that the eagle
fought with the wren, as -w-ith a rival king; and
Colonel Valiancy, in his learned work on tlie Irish,
terms the wren, the augur's favouiite, and remarks
that the Diiiids represented it as the king of birds.
He adds, that the superstitious reverence for-
merly shown to this little creature, offended the
early Christian missionaries, and tliat their dis-
pleasure on account of it originated the cruel
practice before alluded to, of hunting and killing
the bird on Clu'ist mas-day. Of old times it was
also called

*' The little wrenne,
Our Lady's henne;"

so that, somehow or other, the bird has, from
remotest periods, been an object of superstition.
Even to the present day, the Italians call it the
Little King {Reattino), the King of the hedge {Re di

THE WREN. 105

siepe), or the King of the birds (Be degli uccelli).
The Spaniards, too, term it the Kinglet ; and the
Portuguese, the Bird-king. So also the French
give it the name of Boitelet, or Little king, or of
King-berry (Boi-berri/) , or of King of the cold {Boi
de froidure). The Germans call it bj the poetic
names of Snow-king {Schnee-Konig), and Thorn-
king [Dorn-K'6ni(j). The Dutch preserve still
their old name of the wren {Konye, Little king),
and the Welsh simply term it BrfM, King. In
some French provinces, the peasants call the wren
by the no less unaccountable name of Bcenf de
Dieu.

The wren is a bird of solitary and retiring
habits, and is very generally diffused throughout
the British isles, and, indeed, through Europe,
singing its humble song the winter through, in
cold and clieerless scenes, amid the icicles on the
trees, and even when the flakes of snow come
slowly down like plumes, with which to invest
the streams and woods and fields.

CHAPTER III.

SEDGE WARBLER — REED WARBLER GRASSHOPPER

WARBLER WAGTAILS.

If there is any spot in our country whicli, by
the richness of its vegetation, might remind us of
the scenery of the tropics, it is the border of our
stream or river. The water-side has often an
aspect of peculiar beauty and fertility, for most
aquatic plants produce a great number of seeds,
and moisture is every way favourable to vegetable
development. Around and in the still river,
thousands of flowers are crowding, and the tall
brown feathery plume of the reed nods beside
the brown bulrush, and is shaken by every wind
which brings a ripple on the surface. Rich
pm-ple willow herbs cluster there, and the tall
iris, with its petals of gold, rises above the white
and yellow water lilies, whose large leaves cover
the surface. Bright green sprays of the duck-
weeds and pondweeds are spread out on the water,

THE SEDGE TVARBLER. 107

and floating masses of confervas grow so fast, that
if the pond be cleared in one day of them all, the
morrow's sun shall again smile on a surface verdant
as ever with a new growth. And there, casting
the shadow of their slender boughs on the stream,
the silvery willows wave gently to and fro, open-
ing their catkins in the early spring to nourish
the insect tribes, when, as yet, scarcely another
flower offers them food. Beautiful they are in
spring, and more beautiful still when in later
months those catkins have ripened, and the soft
silk of their downy clusters is floating far and
wide on the air, or settling on every flower and
blade of grass around the stream.

It is sweet to wander thither at early morning,
listening to the music of the water which slowly
winds among the grass and sedges, and seems as
an accompaniment to the voice of the bird, that
is singing its song from some tall reed. The sun-
shine glitters on the stream, and the dew on the
grass receives all the bright hues of nature. There
is a sabbath silence on the hills, interrupted
only by the strain of the birds. No sound of
alarm is there, or that song would not be so
joyous, and its sweet echo gives assurance that we

108 OUR natbt: songsters.

may wander fearlessly over those green meadows.
War has not come hither to scare the birds, as it
came once on the plains of Waterloo, scaring
them so effectually, that for long years after, their
music resounded no more from the neighbouring
forest. But he wlio will rise up at the voice of
the bird now, and come to their quiet retreats by
the still rivers, sliall hear the tune of the untiring
songsters some of whom have not been silent
even during the niglit, but have sung their glad-
ness to the moon and stars.

Such a bird is the Sedge Warbler* {Saltcaria
phragmitls)^ whose song may be heard by day or
night in such a scene as we have described. This
is a decidedly aquatic species, and is very abun-
dant on the sides of rivers, or on marshy or boggy
land, in every part of our island. There it hides
mider the covert of the reeds, or among the
sharp sword-like leaves of the flowering rush ;
or it settles on the willow bough or on the

* The Sedge Warbler is four inches and three-quarters in
length. Upper parts reddish-brown, clouded and streaked with
darker ; wing quills and tail dark brown ; head streaked with
blackish, and marked over each eye with a cream-coloured band ;
throat white, becoming buff on the breast and belly ; beak and
feet pale brown.

THE SEDGE WARBLER. 109

hawthorn, which, at a short distance, is covered
with its pearly clusters of blossoms. It is fond,
however, of burying itself among the rushes,
and is thus oftener heard than seen. One can
hardly praise the song as a very sweet one.
It is a shrill rapid succession of notes, and is
seldom heard from one bird only, for these social
creatures are wont to sing in chorus : yet it is a
strange wild strain, and in these quiet places has
a charm, arising rather from its singularity and
pleasant associations, than from its melody. The
sedge-bird is considered a sort of mocking bird, as
it seems sometimes, though in a rapid and con-
fused manner, to be occupied in imitating the
song of the skylark, the chirp of the sparrow or the
goldfinch, and the twitter of the swallow; some-
times introducing, in the midst of these apparent
imitations, a deep harsh note, which though faintly
resembling the chirr of the whitethroat, yet truly
belongs to no bird save our sedge warbler.

Professor Kennie, though acknowledging some
similarity in the notes of this bird's song to those
which are supposed to be imitated, considers that
they are, notwithstanding, the natural tones of
the singer. He remarks : " From the sedge-bird

110 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

frequenting the solitary banks of reedy streams
and ditches, it can have few opportunities of
hearing the notes of the chimney swallow, and
much less of the house sparrow, even were
it disposed to learn them. And among some
hundreds of these birds which we have listened
to, in the most varied situations in the three king-
doms, all seemed to have very nearly the same
notes, repeated in the same order, a fact which
appears to us to be fiital to the inference of the
notes being derived not from one, but from a
number of other birds. For if this were so, it is
not possible tliat these imitated notes should all
follow in exactly the same order in the song of
each individual imitation, in different and distant
parts of the country. The close similarity of tlie
notes to those alleged to be imitated, cannot indeed
be denied; but taking all the circumstances into
account, we think it much more probable that
these resembling notes are original to the sedge-
bird, and that we might with equal justice ac-
cuse the swallow and the skylark of borrowing
from it."

Wliite calls this bird the delicate Polyglot, yet
its best notes are not to be compared for sweet-

THE SEDGE WAKBLER. Ill

ness to that American bird which Southey de-
scribes—

" That cheerful one who knoweth all
The songs of all the winged choristers ;
And in one sequence of melodious sounds
Pours all their music."

•It is a merry bird, however, singing all day long,
and easily urged into song, if, when it chance to
be silent, a stone is thrown at it. Away it glides
•then into some deeper recess among the water
plants, and commencing its rapid strain seems to
bid a cheerful defiance to fear and danger ; then it
gives the whit, whit, whit, of the swallow, or the
twink, twink, of the chaffinch, to perfection; or
suddenly utters the chur-r-r, chur-r-r, which is its
own sound, if any danger is apprehended to its
nest from an approaching footstep. Its singing is
very singular as it sounds forth from the reedy
waters late at night, when hundreds of voices
seem sometimes joining in concert, and the
traveller at that lone hour listens with wonder
and pleasure to the strange tones.

The sedge-bird builds its nest at the base of
some thick clump of sedges, or other plants, which
surround the pool. It is formed of grasses and

112 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

coarse bents, thickly lined with hair, and the eggs
are of a pale yellowish-brown colour, with darker
streaks of the same hue. Early in May, great
numbers of these nests lie concealed among the
sedges which grow around the borders of the
Thames.

This bh'd is but a summer visitor to our land,
coming hither in April, and staying till October ;
and its companion among the sedges, the Reed
Warbler,* or Reed Wren {Sah'can'a anoidiimced),
arrives at about the same season, though it usually
departs earlier in tlic year. Though it wears a
sober suit, this bird, too, is a gladsome creature,
and, like its congener, lives on the food to be found
in and near the waters, feasting on the little worms
and slugs which lie among the leaves, or seizing
the fresh-water shell-hsh when it comes to breathe
the air of the surface, easily disposing of the
shelly house, by breaking the fragile tenement with
its beak. Nor do our birds hesitate to arrest the
brilliant dragon-fly which soars around the stream,
or to stop suddenly the singing of the gnat, which

* The Eeed Warbler is five inches and a half in length.
Upper parts pale reddish-brown without spots ; chin and throat
white ; breast and belly pale buff ; beak and feet pale brown.

TEE REED WAEBLER. 113

is dancing there in intricate mazes. Tlie reed-
lings seem to live in perfect harmony with tlie
sedcje birds, and sing and build among the rushes
witli them. The reed warbler, however, differs
from them in this, that it never flits away to a
neighbouring bough to sing, but confines itself
closely to the reedy shore. The song is more
sweet and varied than that of the sedge warbler,
and though hurried, and sometimes apparently
imitative of other birds, yet it is not intermingled
with many harsh notes. It may be heard chiefly
at morning or evening twilight. At times it
resembles the words " tran, tran, tran," repeated
a dozen or fifteen times in succession. And it is
so loud that it may be heard far away from the
stream side.

The nest of the reed warbler is very beautiful.
It is a long, deep structure, and is hung upon the
reeds, or rather intermixed among them ; three
reeds serving as poles for its support. It is formed
of branches of reeds and long grass wound round
and round, and mingled with a good quantity of
wool. The deptli of the nest affords security both
to the eggs and nestlings, so that though the wind
may shake the reeds ever so much, they are not

I

114 OUR NATIVE SONGSTEllS.

thrown out, nor does the mother bird seem
alarmed when some sweeping gust rushes among
tliem, and bows both her home and licrself nearly
to the surface of the water. She knows that the
long strips of grass which bind the nest to the
reed stalk are fixed securely, and that that beauti-
ful plume-like reed will bend and rise again
unbroken by tlie wind. On some rare occasions,
indeed, when long-continued rains have swollen
the stream beyond its usual boundaries, tlie nest
will be submerged ; but it is generally placed with
so prudential a skill, as that many, like the
peasants of LoiTaine, judge of the height to which
the water will anive, by the elevation of the nests
of the recdlings. The mother-bird is not easily
alarmed, and Colonel ^lontagu saw a reed warbler
retaining her seat on the nest, when every gust
bent it almost to the sm-face of the stream. Both
this bird and the sedge warbler are very common
in Holland, where the sedgy dikes afford them a
good retreat. In our country the latter species is
more numerous than the fonner.

The eggs of the reedling wren are greenish-
white, spotted with olive and brown. Happily the
bird is not relished as food, neither will it beai-

^ /

^-,-

^

THE GRASSHOPPER WARBLER. 115

confinement, so that it is permitted to sing its song
in the wild and pleasant scenes of nature.

The Grasshopper Warbler,* oi' Grasshopper Lark
{Salicaria locusteUa), is not, nke our sedge-birds,
an aquatic species, but, haunting the brambles and
underwood of low damp situations, it is some-
times found not far from their abodes, though by
no means confined to moist lands. This species is
also called Cricket-bird, Brakehopper, Grass-
hopper, Chirper, and also Rattlesnake bird. All
these names refer to the peculiar sounds of its notes,
which resemble sometimes the cry of the mole-
cricket, and at others the rattle of the formidable
reptile of hotter regions ; though, as Mr. Blyth
has remarked, it is difficult to imagine how the
latter should be sufficiently well known in Eng-
land to give rise to a provincial name. One
would think from the variety of its country ap-
pellations, that this was a familiar and frequent
bird ; yet it is not so, for it is not only very local
in its liaunts, but so shy in its habits that it is

* The Grasshopper Warbler is five inches and a half in length.
Upper parts greenish-brown, clouded (except on the tail) Avith
blackish spots ; under parts pale brown, spotted on the breast
with darker brown. The tips of the tail-feathers are pointed.

116 OUR KATnT SONGSTERS.

rarely seen. It secretes itself in hedge bottoms,
winding its way among the interlacing stems of
the brambles, of the thick tufts of the furze
branches of the 6ommon ; creeping for several
yards in succession, more like a mouse than a bird,
so that one can rarely get a sight of tlie little crea-
ture, whose shar]) shrill notes are, however, echoed
far and wide. When Mr. Selby wished to obtain
specimens, he was obliged to watch for a consider-
able time before he could get a sufficient view of
a bird to enable him to fire at it. If approached
unawares, it runs along over the gromid, perking
up its tail in the most curious manner.

^lany, however, who have never seen the grass-
hopper warbler have heard its remarkable note,
particularly about sunset, and even in' the night.
It is a long, repeated, shrill, hissing cr}', repeated
without intermission, for some minutes together.
The bird is most inaptly termed a warbler, for it
certainly never warbles at all ; but the peculiarity
of its singing is, that it possesses a kind of ventri-
loquij^ing faculty, so that its voice scarcely ever
seems to proceed from the true direction. It can,
at will, send forth its tones to the distance of two
or three yards, so that by merely turning romid

TUE GRASSHOPPER WARBLER. 117

its head, tlic sound often appears to be shifted to
double that distance. Mr. Blyth remarks, " The
same effect is produced also by the common
meadow-crake, and in precisely the same manner,
by a mere turn of the head. When this curious
cricket-bird first arrives, it sedulously hides itself,"
he adds, " in the very densest furze or bramble
coverts, rarely emitting its strange sibilous rattle,
whicli hardly ever seems to proceed fi'om the true
spot."

The male birds, as with some other migratory
species, arrive first, and as soon as they have fixed
their abode, and their companions begin to follow,
the ventriloquising note ceases, lest it should serve
only to mislead ; and at this time the male
bird sits on the topmost twig of the bushes, and
rattles so loudly as to be heard at a great distance.
'' They are at this period so bold, as that if even
shot at and missed, they fly only two or three
yards, and then recommence immediately as if
nothing had happened." This accurate observer
remarks, that for two successive years he had
heard the trill on the 10th of April for the first
time in the season.

The grasshopper bird is thus noticed by White,

118 OUR natrt: soxgstebs.

of Selborne : — " Nothing can be more amusing
tlian the whisper of this little bird, wliicli seems
to be close by, though at a hundred yards' distance,
and when close at your ear is scarcely any louder
than when a great way off. Had I not been a
little acquainted with insects, and known that the .
grasshop})er kind is not yet hatclied, I should have
hardly believed but that it had been a locusta
whispering in tlic bushes. The country jxiople
laiigli when you tell tlu'in it is the note of a bird."

The greenish and brownish shades of the
plumage arc well adai)ted to the bird's desire of
concealment. It builds its nest in the very
thickest and most secluded spot of the underwood,
making it very compact and substantial, and
taking for its materials the dried grass stems and
the green moss. The eggs are very pretty, being
of a })inkish grey, speckled with a deeper tint.

Our bird comes to us from the warmer regions
of the South in April, and quits us in September.
It seems to be more general in the counties around
London than in any other part of Britain.

Those who are used to ramble among the lands
made green and luxuriant by the silver streams
which meander among them, must have remarked

THE TIED WAGTAIL. 119

those merry graceful birds, the AVagtails. Now
we see them peering down among the leaves of
the water-flowers, or wading into the stream itself.
and seizing the slugs and shell-fish which lie hidden
there, or the beautiful winged creatures resting for
a moment upon them ; or devouring the larvge of
some, which if left untouched, would soon be rising
on wings of azure and gold. These birds are most
delicately formed, with slender bodies and equally
slender feet, their small heads terminated by ex-
quisitely moulded bills, and their long well-
balanced tails moving up and down perpetually.
The merry wagtails, or dishwashers, as country
people call them, may be easily distinguished from
any other birds, for none of our wood or stream-
side minstrels at all resemble them in form, or in
the black and white plumage which is so conspi-
cuous even at a distance in the commoner species.
The Pied Wagtail* {Motacilla FarreZZn) might,
for some of its habits, be almost classed with the

* The Pied Wagtail is seven inches and a half in length. The
ground colour is black ; but the forehead, the sides of the head
and of the neck, the edges of the wing-coverts, and of the tertials,
the outer tail-feathers, and the belly, are white. These are the
hues of spring ; but in winter the back becomes grey, and the
chin and throat are wlut<3 : the beak and feet are black.

120 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

waders, for it T\dll remain in the shallow water for
ten minutes at a time, walking along in pursuit of
spiders and other insects. Sometimes it may be
seen thus employed at the edge of the rivulet, or
running along over the lawn of the garden, or on
the meadow land ; or making a short and sudden
flight, with its tail outspread like a broad oar, and
sailing about in the air with most graceful evolutions.
It is no wonder that tlie birds have the popular
name of wagtail, for this tail of theirs seems in
incessant motion, vibrating not only in its Hat and
oar-like state durinc!; flight, but also quivering per-
petually when raised in a perpendicular direction,
as the lively creatm*e runs along the ground.
The French call these birds les lavandieres, for
they are often the constant companions of the
washerwomen, wlio in France assemble by the
sides of rivers to perform their occupations, and
whose operation of beating the linen the wagtails
seem to imitate by the movements of their tails.
The birds seem, indeed, at all times perfect types
of symmetry and glee, running witli delight into
the water, waging perpetual war with the insect
race, and, during the period when their young
demand food, requiring no small number to provide

THE PIED WAGTAIL. 121

for their eager voracity. Xor do the parent birds
themselves liiid a few sufficient for their supply,
for they devour tliem with insatiable earnestness ;
and as they jerk about in the air after the gnats,
or nm pecking over the ground, their lively shrill
notes of- "guit, guit, guit, guit," have a sound
which accords well with their active motions.

The pied wagtail seems fond of the companion-
ship of man, often keeping near the labourer in
tlie liclds, and seeming far less fearful of him than
of the bird of prey. It will run by the cattle,
and look well into the broad furrows which the
passing ploughshare leaves in the field, making
successive leaps as it follows this; rising in the
air considerably at the beginning of each etfort, and
sinking again at the close ; swallowing a number
of insects, whicli the ploughman turns up in his
course, taking them more frequently from the
ground than during flight. Mr. Yanell quotes
a letter from Mr. Rayner, in which the Avriter
remarks, that in the smnmer and autumn of 1837,
he had several wagtails of the pied and yellow
species in his a\'iary, which were all very expert
in catching and feeding on the minnows which
were in a fountain in the centre. They hovered

122 OUR ICATIVE SONGSTERS.

over the water, and seized the minnow with gi*eat
dexterity as it approached the surface. He adds
that he was also much surprised at the wariness
and cunning of some blackbirds and thrushes,
which watched tlie wagtails during this process,
and no sooner saw them take the prey, than they
wickedly seized and secured it for their o^v^l
dinners.

The pied wagtail appears to be a permanent
resident in the soutliern parts of England, but is
migratory in the northem counties, and in Scot-
land, leaving at the approach of winter, and
returning about February or March. In autumn
some of the pasture-lands, which are watered by
streams, are rendered quite lively by the gi'aceful
and incessant motions of small flocks of these
birds, which congregate there previously to taking
their departure. As evening comes on, they
retire into the bushes or copsewood near, making
an incessant clamour, till darkness has overtaken all
nature. As they wing their way onwards, with
their jerking flight, made at no gi-eat height in
the air, their noisy clamour would suggest the idea
that the whole party was engaged in quarrelling
with each other, no tvvo holding the same opinions.

THE PIED WAGTAIL. 123

The pied wagtail was, until recently, believed
to be the same as the continental species, and both
kinds were included by ornithologists under the
name of Motacilla alha. Mr. Gould ascertained
that they were quite distinct from each other, and
that our English wagtail is much more robust
than the wliite or pied wagtail of France, and of
Europe generally. During winter, the colours of
the two species are so similar as to account for
their having so long been thought one ; and their
manners and habits are exactly alike. In summer,
however, the pied wagtail of England has the
whole of the head, back, and chest, of a full deep
jet black : while in the continental kind, at this
period, the throat and head alone are of this
colour, and the rest of the upper surface is of a
light ash grey. This writer considers, that the
Motacilla alba, though so common in the neigh-
bourhood of Calais, has not yet been discovered on
the opposite shores of Kent ; he therefore named
our English bird after the excellent naturalist,
Mr. Yarrell. There are some good observers of
birds, however, who think that the continental
species is occasionally seen in our island.

The pied wagtail has, besides its call-note, a

124 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

sweet and varied song, though not a loud one. In
autumn it is like a low sweet murmur. " Encore,"
says the old French naturalist Belon, " ils savent
rossignoller du gosier melodieusement, chose qu'on
pent souvent fois ouir sur le commencement de
rhiver." It builds its nest generally somewhere
near the stream, sometimes placing it in holes, or
on a bank near to the edge of the water ; but more
frequently among piles of wood, or in heaps of
stones, or perhaps in some old pollard willow which
grows near the river, and whose ancient trunk
remains when the greener boughs have long since
disappeared. This wagtail is not a neat -builder,
and its dwelling is constructed somewhat carelessly,
of small roots, and moss, and fibres of grasses
mixed Avitli wool, and lined with hair. The eggs
are five in number, of a greyish-white colour
speckled with brown. There are usually two
broods in the year, and the parent birds are most
com-ageous in the defence of their young, flying
round and round the person who takes the nest,
as if determined not to forsake it, and all the time
uttering a wild scream of agony. Few birds
either are more careful in keeping the nest clean,
and removing firom it continually anything which

THE WAGTAIL. 125

miglit render it unfit for tlie delicate little nestlings
whose home it is.

The wagtail will not long endure captivity, but
its song, though sweet in a wild state, oiFers little
temptation to the bird trainer. In Egypt the flesh
of these birds is eaten, and they are dried in the
sand for this purpose.

That intrusive bird, the cuckoo, seems greatly
to prefer the wagtail's nest to that of any other,
when she intends finding a place for her eggs.
The cuckoo has been often observed narrowly
watching a pair of wagtails, during the process of
nest-building, and indeed the busy birds can rarely
escape the prying eyes of the less industrious
one. Mr. Hoy, of Stoke Nay land, remarks : "On
one occasion I had observed a cuckoo, during
several days, anxiously watching a pair of wagtails
building. I saw the cuckoo fly from the nest, two
or three times before it was half completed ; and
at last, the labour of the wagtails not going on,
I imagine, so rapidly as might be wished, the
cuckoo deposited its egg before the Kning of the
nest was finished. The egg, contrary to my ex-
pectation, was not thrown out, and on the following
day the wagtail commenced laying, and, as usual,

126 OUE NATIVE SONGSTERS.

the intruder was liatclied at the same time as the
rest, and soon had the whole nest to itself."

On another occasion, a cuckoo was observed
to deposit its egg in the nest of the pied wagtail.
In process of time, the young foundling was seen
at the top of the thatch of the building where the
nest was, and wliere its foster-parents carefully fed
it. The swallows, however, are not so forbearing
with intruders, but seemed in this case liighly
indignant, and determined to frighten the innocent
cause of their displeasure. They came down upon
it, swooping to and fro in their anger, but the
little cuckoo made neither defence nor appeal, but
simply threw back its head, and opened its mouth,
though, as he who observed it adds, " whether in
fear, or to intimidate them, I cannot say."

The Grey Wagtail* [MotaciUa hoarula) is even
a more elegant and graceful bird than the pied

* The Grey Wagtail is seven inches and three quarters in
length. Upper parts slate-grey; wing and tail feathers black
with yellowish edges ; the outmost feathery of the tail almost
wholly white ; chin and throat black, descending in a point on
the breast ; a streak above each eye, and one on the side of the
neck pale bufiP; whole under parts and the upper tail-coverts
brilliant yellow. In 'v\'inter the black disappears from the chin
and throat, which with the breast and belly become yellowish-
white ; the beak and feet are dusky brown.

THE GREY WAGTAIL. 127

species. Like that, however, it loves the stream-
sides, tliough it seems to prefer hilly districts to
plains. It seeks its food on the borders of the
brooks and rivers, and comes, too, to the stagnant
ditch -where the constant decomposition of vege-
table substances engenders a great profusion of in-
sects. Its song is very superior to that of the pied
wagtail ; while its shrill call-note often attracts the
attention of those who would not else observe it.
This consists of the words " chiz, chiz, chizzel,
chizzet," so that, as an accurate observer has said,
it seems very fond of the letter z. The same
writer, in a contribution to the Magazine of Na-
tural History, remarks : ^' I have been amused
with a singular habit which I have noticed in
several individuals of the grey wagtails. They
were fond of looking at their own images in the
windows, and attacking them, uttering their pecu-
liar cry, pecking and fluttering against the glass,
as earnestly as if the object they saw had been
a real rival, instead of an imaginary one ; or
perhaps they were only admiring themselves, and
testifying their satisfaction in this way. It is re-
markable, that two of these instances were in the
autumn, when the same motives for either love

128 OUE NATIVE SONGSTETvS.

or animosity which would be likclj to actuate
them in the sj)nng, would no longer exist. The
first of these instances occurred when I was a
boy, and was rc])eated daily, and almost hourly,
both against the windows of my father's house,
and those of that of our neighbour;, who being
rather superstitious, was alarmed about it, and
came to consult my mother on the subject. She
said tliere was a bird, which lier brotlier had told
her was a barley bird, which wa.«< continually flying
against the windows ; and as birds were not in tlie
habit of doing so at any other time, she thought
some serious calamity was portended by it. My
motlier comforted her as well as she could ; and
I undertook to rid her of tlie annoyance. By
setting a horse-hair noose on one of the window
ledges, which it was in the habit of frequenting,
I soon caught it; and by jducking out tlie under-
tail coverts, which I wanted to dress yellow duns
with, I effectually cured it of the propensity."

This bird, is, during the summer, very generally
diffused throughout Europe. In Scotland and the
northern counties of England it is a regular
summer visitor, coming to us in April, and quitting
at about the end of September. It is described

y.

(f^>

THE YELLOW WAGTAIL. 129

loj Selby, however, as having been seen in the
south of England in the winter only during its
southern migration. It has two broods each season.
The nest is usually placed in some rocky ledge
near the clear pebbly stream, or among some
heap of stones, or percliance in a hole which the
bird finds in a neighbouring bank, Avhere the
gentle murmuring of waters may serve as an
accompaniment to its pleasing song. The eggs
are of a yellowish gi'ey tint, with dashes of a
darker colour.

The Yellow Wagtail* {Motacilla flava) frequents
downs and open arable lands, and is very similar
in its habits to the grey species. It builds on the
gTOund, and its eggs are of a pale brown, marked
with a darker hue. It is a migratory bird, arriv-
ing here in March ; and its song is very sweet.

Besides the various songs of the birds already
named as frequenters of well-watered lands, the
call-notes and chirpings of several others may be
heard in such scenes ; and the low sweet notes of the
Bearded Titmouse ( Calamoj^hilus hiarmicus) in some

* The Yellow Wagtail is six inches and a half in length.
Upper parts pale olive ; wing and tail browner ; whole under
parts, as well as a streak over the eye, brilliant yellow ; beak and
ieet black.

K

THE YELLOW WAGTAIL. 129

"by Selby, liowever, as having been seen in the
south of England in the winter only during its
southern migration. It has two broods each season.
The nest is usually placed in some rocky ledge
near the clear pebbly stream, or among some
heap of stones, or percliance in a hole which the
bird finds in a neighbouring bank, where the
gentle murmuring of waters may serve as an
accompaniment to its pleasing song. The eggs
are of a yellowish grey tint, with dashes of a
darker colour.

The Yellow Wagtail* {MotaciUa flava) frequents
downs and open arable lands, and is very similar
in its habits to the grey species. It builds on the
gTOund, and its eggs are of a pale brown, marked
with a darker hue. It is a migratory bird, arriv-
ing here in March; and its song is very sweet.

Besides the various songs of the birds already
named as frequenters of well-watered lands, the
call-notes and chirpings of several others may be
heard in such scenes ; and the low sweet notes of the
Bearded Titmouse ( Calamophilus Marmicus) in some

* The Yellow Wagtail \a six inches and a half in length.
Upper parts pale olive; wing and tail browner; whole under
parts, as well as a streak over the eye, brilliant yellow ; beak and
Ceet black.

130 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

few places come sounding from the reeds, " like
a little silver bell," which sends its clear ringing
tones far away over the gi-assy meadow; and the
meny hm'ried song of the Marsh Titmouse [Pariis
palustris) falls there upon the ear. Here, too, the
black-headed Reed Bunting [Emheriza sclioeniclus)
comes in company with many of its fellows, to seek
its food and rear its young among the reeds and
long grasses of the stream, and sings its song as if
in too gi-eat a hurry to enunciate it fully. It is
often said to be one of our few night singers, but
we cannot claim for it this distinction; and it is
probable that the notes of the sedge warbler, heard
during night from the reeds, have been mistaken
for those of the bunting. But it is no gi*eat
singer at the best of times, and only deserves a
slight mention in our enumeration of singing birds.

V

t V ^^

CHAPTER IV.

NIGHTINGALE — BLACKCAP — GARDEN WARBLER WHITE-
THROAT LESSER WHITETHROAT.

Flowers are blooming and green boughs are
waving, and summer is come. The cuckoo's
voice has long been heard over the hills, as a
never-failing token of spring, and we were ready
to hail it in the words of our oldest English
ballad,—

"Cuckoo, Cuckoo,
Well singest thou cuckoo,
Mayest thou never cease."

But the sweetest of all om' wild singers has come
with the summer to give us a music far richer
than that of the cuckoo's unvarying tones. The
brown Nightingale* [Philomela luscima) is sing-
ing now, and the clear loud notes, changing ever

♦ The Nightingale is about six inches and a half in length.
Whole upper parts chestnut-brown ; under parts dull greyish-
white : beak and feet brown.

132 OUE NATIVE SONGSTERS.

as the song proceeds, fill the wood with their
echoes, and are answered repeatedly by kindred
voices in far distant trees.

" If, the quiet brooklet leaving,

Up the stony vale I wind ;

Haply half in fancy grieving

For the shades I leave behind ;
By the dusty wayside drear,
Nightingales, with joyous cheer,
Sing, my sadness to reprove,
Gladlier than in cultured grove.

" Where the thickest boughs are twining
Of the greenest, darkest tree.
There they plunge — the light declining,

All may hear, and none may see :
Fearless of the passing hoof,
Hardly will they fleet aloof;
So they live, in modest ways.
Trust entire, and ceaseless praise."

Thus sings the author of the " Christian Year,'^
of our nightingale; and all who have dwelt in
places frequented by this bird, have paused to
listen to its minstrelsy, sounding from the wood
or shrubbery which bordered the highway. Not
alone when the shadows of evening have brought
their grey colouring to the wood or field, is that
strain to be heard ; but even at the brightest horn-

THE NIGUTINGALE. 133

of morning, when, if we look upward, we may
espy the small singer sitting on the bough, and
mark the swelling of its throat, as it pours forth
the full tide of song.

■ But the song of tlie bird is so sweet in all
its changes, and so loud too, that one can hardly
believe it is uttered by so small a minstrel.
Sometimes when one would fain sleep, that song
has, in spite of our drowsiness, compelled us to
listen. Now it seemed so plaintive, so deeply
tender, as to justify the epithets of " melancholy
bird," with which poets of all ages have so lavishly
endowed the singer. But listen for awhile, and
that melody has changed, and the " merry night-
ingale," the epithet of Chaucer, seems more
appropriate, and we can for a moment believe
with CJoleridge, —

" A melancholy bird ! oh idle thought,
In nature there is nothing melancholy ;
But some night-wandering man, whose heart was pierced
With the remembrance of a grievous wrong,
Or slow distemper, or neglected love,
(And 80, poor wretch, fill'd all things with himself,
And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale
Of his own sorrow,) he, and such as he,
First named these notes a melancholy strain ;
And many a poet echoes the conceit

134 OUR N.\TIVE SONGSTERS.

" We may not thus profane
Nature's sweet voices, always full of love
And joyance ! 'tis the merry nightingale,
That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates
With fast thick warble his delicious notes.
As he were fearful that an April night
Would be too short for him to utter forth
His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul
Of all its music.

"Far and near,
In wood and thicket, over the wide grove
They answer and provoke each other's songs,
With skirmish and capricious passagings,
And murmui-s musical, and swift jug, jug,
And one low piping sound, more sweet than all.
Stirring the air with, such wild harmony,
That should you close your eyes, you might almost
Forget it was not day."

The low, piping, melodious strain which the poet
describes as varying tlie jug, jug, jug of the
nightingale, is well expressed by its rustic term
of blowing. But most persons who have listened
often to the bird, will admit with the son of the
poet, Hartley Coleridge, that at times, at least,

" Ne'er on earth was sound of mirth
So like to melancholy."

Both old and modern poets have been undoubtedly
influenced by their classic associations, in pro-

THE NIGHTINGALE. 135

nouncing the song of the nightingale a sad one ;
yet the oklest of all, again and again, expressed
its song by similar epithets, and from Homer
downwards, many have told the same tale, or, as
our Coleridge would have it, " echoed the conceit."
Homer spoke of the tawny nightingale, that com-
plains in leafy shades ; and Hesiod and Virgil
have similar allusions. Horace calls it the sad,
the grief-stricken, the love-lorn bird ; and in later
years Petrarch represented it as lamenting, and
Tasso as deploring. The Provencal and French
poetry, as Hallam has remarked, " became filled
with monotonous common-places, among which
the tedious descriptions of spring, and the ever-
lasting nightingale, are eminently to be reckoned ;"
and from the poetry of the Troubadours might be
selected abundant passages, in which our bird was
singing the saddest of songs. Sir Philip Sydney
tells of the nightingale, which

" Sings out her woes, a thome her song-book making,"

And the whole poem, commonly attributed to Sir
Walter llaleigh, but which more probably came
from the pen of Eichard Barnfield, describes the
poor bird as " all forlorn" and singing the ^' dole-
fullest ditty," till, as he says —

136 OUR NATRTE SONGSTERS.

" Her grief so lively shown,
Made me think upon my own."

But, however the question of its sadness may be
viewed, all will agree that the song of the night-
ingale is the best and sweetest, that it has the
most variety, and the gi'eatest compass, of that of
any of the minstrels of the wood. Sixteen burdens
are said to be clearly reckoned in this song, which
are well determined by the first and last notes.
Nor docs this bird, like our other songsters, ever
repeat itself. It gives us something original at
each passage, or if it " resumes the same, it is al-
ways with new accents and added embellishments."
The editor of Cuvier's '' Kbgne Animal" says,
that the bird can " sustain the song uninterrupted
during twenty seconds ; and the sphere which its
voice can fill is at least a mile in diameter. Song
is so peculiarly tlie attribute of this species, that
even the female possesses it; less strong and
varied, it is true, than that of the male ; but as to
the rest, entirely resembling it; even in its
dreaming sleep, the nightingale warbles."

It will, perhaps, rather amuse the reader to see
in what manner that good obsei-ver of birds,
Bechstein, describes, in written characters, the

TKE NIGHTINGALE. 137

rich variety of our bird's notes, though we imagine
that Coleridge's poetic description of the singing
will, after all, better convey some idea of it, to
any wlio may never have chanced to listen to
the niglitingale's song. Happily, only the task of
penning it down falls upon tlie writer, or the
difficulties of pronouncing it might deter from any
effort. " Tioti, tioti, tioti, tiofi — Spe, tioti, squa —
Tio, tio, tio, ti6, tio, ti6, tio, tix — Coutio, coutio,
coutio, coutio — Squo, squo, squo, squo — Tzu, tzu,
tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzi — Corror, tiou,
squa, pipiqui — Zozozozozozozozozozozozo, ziiThad-
ing — Tsissisi, tsissisisisisisis — Dzorre, dzorre, dzorre,
dzorre, hi — Tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu,
tzatu, dzi — Dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo,
dlo — Quio, tr n-rrrrrr itz — Lu, lu, lu, lu, ly, ly,
ly, ly, lie lie lie lie lie. Quio didl li lulylie —
HagmT, gurr, quipio — Coui, coui, coui, coui, qui,
qui, qui, gai, gui, gui— Goll, goll, goU, goll, guia
hadadoi — Couigui, horr, ha diadia dill si — Heze-
zezezezezezezezezezezezezezeze couar ho dze hoi —
Quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, ti — Ki
ki, ki, 10, 10, 10, ioioioio ki — Lu ly li le lai la leu
lo, didl 10 quia — Kigaigaigaigaigaigaigai guiagai-
gaigai couior dzio dzio pi."

138 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

But turning from the description of the strain
thus A^Titten do^v^l by our enthusiastic German,
we may pause to inquire how it is that the song is
really so mellow. Syme has remarked, that the
notes of soft-billed birds in general are "finely-
toned, mellow and plaintive ; wliile those of the
hard-billed species are cliaracterised by spright-
liness, cheerfulness, and rapidity." This difterence,
he says, proceeds from the construction of the
vocal organs. "As a large pipe of an organ
produces a more deep and mellow-toned note
than a small pipe, so tlie windpipe of the
niditiuG^ale, which is wider than that of the
canary, sends forth a deeper and more mellow-
toned note." Thus the soft, round, mellow notes
of this delicious singer, are to be ascribed to the
width of the windpipe.

The nightingale comes to our island at the close
of April or the beginning of May, and quits us
for southern climates at the end of August or
commencement of September. The male birds
arrive a few days before the females, and no sooner
do these last reach the woods than a welcome of
loud song greets their coming. These songs, by
day and night, may be heard in full chorus during

THE NIGHTINGALE. 139

May and June ; but after this time the voice of
the nightingale seems gone, and when his mate no
longer needs its cheering influences a strange croak-
ing noise succeeds, as if our bird were hoarse from
the effects of cold; varied occasionally by a snapping
noise made with the beak, which would seem to be
a tone of anger or defiance. Now and then during
August, the young male birds which were hatched
in the preceding spring, seem warbling as if prac-
tising their songs against another summer.

The nightingale, frequent as it is in many
counties, is very local in its distribution. It is
abundant in the southern part of England, and is
well known in Kent, SuiTcy, Sussex, Hampshire,
Berkshire, Middlesex, Hertfordshire, Cambridge-
shire, and Essex. It is rarely found in the middle
and northern counties, except in one or two spots
in Yorkshire, where it is described as somewhat
more frequent, and in Cheshire, Staffordshire,
Derbyshire, and Lancashire, as well as in Cornwall
and Devonshire, it seems unknown. There are no
nightingales in Ireland, and if any are ever seen
in Wales, they are but occasional visitors to the
southern counties. ]\Iany attempts have been
made to introduce the bird in various spots, and

140 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

though little success attended the effort, yet Mr.
Sweet considers that there is no doubt that the
experiment might be made successfully in any
place where there was a good cover of undenvood,
and plenty of insects, if the eggs were hatched
by any of the tribe to which they are nearly related.
He tliinks tliat the Eedstart would be a good
parent.

The nightingale is naturally a timid and retiring
bird, haunting the thick foliage of the woods, or
the deep recesses of some copse with a good
growth of shrubs. The neighbourhood of a purling
stream seems preferred by it, and it delights on
a hill side where a natural echo is found to tlie
song. The nest is skilfully concealed in some
thick bushes not far from the ground, or is placed
on the ground in a little hole, which the builder
can find adapted to its purpose. It is loosely
composed, so much so, that, as Mr. Yarrell observes,
it is generally necessary to pass a piece of thread
or string several times around it, before removing
it, if one wishes to preserve its natural form. It
is made by placing a few dead leaves of the oak or
hornbeam in the hollow, with dried grasses; and
when near streams, with pieces of rushes ; while

THE NIGHTINGALE. 141

the lining is made of fibrous roots. Sometimes
the "poet bird" displays an extraordinary taste
in the selection" of materials; and Mr. Mm'ray
describes a nest which he found, composed wholly
of those skeleton leaves, which in spring and
autumn lie scattered in woods and gardens, con-
sisting only of the fibres, from which the green
portion has been separated by sun and rain. As
these leaves are not to be found everywhere, the
little bird must have taken some pains to gratify her
taste in arranging her home. The eggs are four
or five in number, of an olive brown colour. The
young birds make their appearance in June, after
which we seldom hear the nightingale, or if he
sings at all, it is with little spirit and vigour.

This bird has generally two or three favourite
trees near its nest, where it sings its sweetest
songs, keeping all the time a watchful eye on its
family. In the course of about a fortnight after
the nestlings are hatched, they are covered with
feathers, and, though unable to fly, they will quit
the nest, jumping from twig to twig, after the parent
birds. Sometimes, when a wanderer through the
wood comes near the well-guarded nest, the night-
ingale will practise some little art to wile him

142 OUU NATIVE SONGSTERS.

away from the spot. A naturalist, who was one day
tempted to enter a copse, in pursuit of an azure
butterfly, was attracted by the melodies of a
nightingale close at his side. " The singing," says
Mr. Conway, '' was in one continuous, incessant
and uninteiTupted melody ; there were none of
those frequent breaks which are so characteristic
of the song of the nightingale when heard at
a little distance ; it was one incessant warble. I
can hardly call it a warble either; it was one
unceasing eftbrt; so much so, that I stood per-
fectly astonished, and at a loss to conceive how it
was possible for so small a creature to exert itself
so mightily." This listener soon began to think
that the nest must be near, and lie determined to
watch the bird closely in order to discover it.
This, however, was a very difficult matter, and he
was at one time nearly giving up his search as
useless, for whenever he entered the copse, no
matter from what opening, there was the sweet
minstrel close by him, and hopping from spray to
spray, and bush to bush, thus leading him round
about the wood at its will. He had just desisted
from the attempt, when, by accident, he found the
nest, and he then perceived that whichever way

THE NIGHTINGALE. 143

that song had led him, it was always away from
the dwelling of the bird.

No bird is more easily caught than the night-
ingale. As it sings well in confinement, great
numbers are taken during the first week after
their arrival in this country, by the bird-catchers,
especially in Surrey, as bird-fanciers consider the
nightingale from that county to excel peculiarly in
tone. This practice, of course, lessens considerably
the chorus which would else be left to render the
music of our woodlands delightful to the inhabi-
tant of the Great Metropolis, who, after the cares
and anxieties of city life, may wander dm*ing
evening in the neighbourhood to listen to the
soothing sounds of nature. It has been observed,
too, that the nightingale, more than almost any
other bird which builds near London, is liable to
have its young ones destroyed by cats, as directly
the morning dawns, the younglings commence such
a perpetual clamour for food, that their enemy is
attracted by it to the nest. The nightingale, when
in captivity, will easily learn various airs whistled
to it by the mouth, or played on a flageolet ; but
it loses, in so doing, its own exquisite song. It
is, indeed, during its first year of confinement,

144 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

very apt to imitate any song which it may liear ;
so that those who keep this bird find it neces-
sary to place it near a good singer of its own
species, and by proper care and training, a night-
ingale may be kept in song for three months
together. Mr. Yarrell informs us that he was
told by a successful keeper of nightingales, that a
bird of his had sung for one hundred and fourteen
successive days. After one or two years of cap-
tivity, however, the execution begins to fail, and
instead of one long melody, the song is broken into
snatches. It is said that when this occurs, if
freedom is granted to the poor bird in the month
of May, it will regain its rich sweet song,
when, amid its natural haunts, it has breathed the
invigorating air of the woods, and felt all its
longings to fly and to migrate in its o^^^l power of
accomplishment. In ordinary circumstances, a
nightingale sings well for about five or six seasons,
after which its voice becomes broken.

The nightingale is often so much attached to its
owner when kindly treated, as that it will suffer
none but its master or mistress to feed it ; and it
has been known to pine away and die, when
tended by others. As it is thus exclusive in its

THE NIGPITINGALE. 145

attachment, so it is exceedingly jealous if the
caresses of its master are bestowed upon any rival
bird. Nor is this the only form in which its
jealousy exhibits itself. It cannot bear a rival
singer. '' His motto," says Mr. Kidd, " is, Aiit
Ccesar, aut nullus. He will admit no rival near the
throne. Hence, to keep two of these birds in one
room would be ridiculous. The same extraordi-
nary failing prevails in most of our warblers. If
outdone in song, they frequently fall dead from
off their perches. Some of these rival musicians,
be it known, do not weigh more than a quarter of
an ounce. When, therefore, it is considered desi-
rable to keep several nightingales, let each occupy
a different apartment. By this precaution not any
one of the birds will be put down or silenced, and
each one will sing without having liis temper
ruffled. It is sometimes a hard matter to restore
the serenity of these * enraged musicians ; ' even
then the rage smoulders."

The nightingale has been known to die of regret
at the change of masters ; while some, which have
been offered liberty, and sent forth into the woods,
have willingly come back to captivity. But this
may arise from the great dislike to any change^
L

146 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

which is so marked in the character of this bird.
If only removed from its accustomed situation to
another, even in the same apartment, it becomes
restless and sad, and ceases its melody. It would
dash itself to pieces if placed in an ordinary cage,
where the light came to it on all sides ; but when
kept in shadow, it, in the course of time, con-
gees itself for the loss of liberty by singing and
eating with remarkable voraciousness ; yet a
caged nightingale must ever be an object of coiu-
miseration.

The name of our bird is derived from night, and
the Saxon galan, to sing. The Italians call it
Bossif/nuolo, and the French Bossignol. It is the
Nachtigall of the Germans. It is rather remark-
able, that, though the nightingale is little known
in Wales, Pennant has given the old AVelsh word
Eos among his list of its names.

The Eastern nightingale, the bulbul of the
poets, whose love for the rose is so common an
Oriental fable, like om' bird, sings during niglit.
Its voice is stronger, and can be heard at a far
greater distance, but it wants the mellow round-
ness of tone of tlie sweet bird of our woods.

Second only in |X)wer and sweetness to the

THE BLACKCAP. 147

song of the nightingale, is that of the Blackcap*
{Curruca atricapilla) , tlie rich notes of which reach
us earlier in the spring, and are so gladsome, that
the comparison of tlie old proverb, '' As merry as
a blackcap," seems very appropriate. The familiar
name refers to tlie black patch on the head of
the male bird, and the French call it Fauvctte, a
tete noire, while the Germans give it the name of
Monk or Moor. The Mock-nightingale is another
familiar appellation for this favourite little singer.
Mr. ]\ Iain, in his excellent account of the singing of
various birds, thus describes our blackcap and its
music. " It is," he says, " the contra-alto singer of
the woodland choir. The fine, varied, joyous song of
this emigrant is noticed by the most listless auditor ;
the' strain occupies about three bars of triple time
in the performance, and though very frequently
repeated, is somewhat varied in every repetition.
He begins with two or three short essays of double
notes, gradually crescendo up to a loud and full

* The Blackcap is five inches and three quarters in lep.gth.
Upper parts ashy brown, becoming grey on tlie back of the neck ;
upper half of the head black ; chin, throat, and breast grey ; belly
white ; beak horn colour ; feet lead-grey. The female is larger
than the male, and more tinged with brown ; her head is chest-
nut instead of black.

148 OUR NATR'E SONGSTERS.

swell of yaried expression. One passage often
occurs, as truly enunciated as if performed on an
octave flute. The style and key of the song are
nearly the same in all individuals^ though some
may be noticed to vary in style. I knew one bird
that frequented the same spots of a wood for three
summers, who signalised himself by an arrange-
ment of notes very much excelling his brethren
around. The blackcap is certainly the finest
singer of the Avhole tribe of warblers, except the
nightingale."

Nor is the author peculiar in his opinion of this
value of the song ; few well acquainted with the
notes of our woods would differ from him. Though
it has less volume and richness than that of the bird
of night, yet it is more gay and sprightly, and, as
Bechstein remarks, is more easy and flute-like in its
tones than the strain of the nightingale ; nor are
there wanting some good judges of the singing of
birds, who prefer the song of theblackcaj) to that of
any other of our British woods. The niglit singing
for whicli our Philomel is so remarkable, is not con-
fined to it alone. The blackcap has a tune too for
him whose course may lie through the country
Avhen night has far advanced, while the sedge-bird

THE BLACKCAP. 149

sings from its reeds in the marsh, or the water
ouzel is in full song by the banks where the silent
waters are gliding onward to the sea. Good orni-
thologists, when listening to the strains of the
blackcap, at night, have mistaken them for those
of the nightingale ; and Mr. Dovaston once heard
one, at night, singing so like that bird, that he
asks whether it may not be possible that tliis
blackcap, in his passage through the south of
England, resting in the night, had heard the
nightingale sing, and retained in its memory a
portion of the song. Our blackcap is, indeed, often
said to be a mocking-bird, from its peculiar power
of imitating tlie strains of other songsters. It will
give so exactly those of the thrush and swallow,
that were the bird not seen, the most practised car
might be misled by the deception. Mr. Dovaston,
who calls it tlie " Burns of birds," remarks that lie
has not only a perfectly original style of his own,
but, like a poet of all genius, he sometimes hardly
knows what he is about, and has, regardless of
Aristotle and the unities, neither beginning, middle,
nor end ; while after the highest flights, he some-
times suddenly breaks off into his chat, chat, chat,
of homeliest prose.

150 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

The melody of the blackcap may often be heard in
the scantily-leaved woods of April, or in the parks
and orchards, where, however, it contrives to screen
itself from view, being of a remarkably shy and
recluse nature. A month later, when the foliage
is thicker, its song is more frequent, but it generally
issues from some leafy covert, save when the bird
believes itself to be quite alone, w^hen it will sit
on the very top of a tree, and pour forth its
gladness, its tliroat swelling with the utterance.
But if some lover of nature comes hither to
search for the wild hyacinth or anemone, or to
breathe the sweet odours of leaf or flower, or
to delight in the hamiony of the grove, away
flies the blackcap among the ti-ees, from branch to
branch, till it is quite hidden. The female bird
sings too, though less loudly, and a song may
sometimes be heard from the nest, as the male bird
shares with the female in the cares of rearing the
young family. Though not quite so domestic as
his companion, or capable of remaining w4th so
much steady perseverance in one spot, yet he
seems very happy, too, in taking his share of sitting
on the eggs, and sing so loudly and sweetly out
of his glad heart, that the song has sometimes led

THE BLACKCAP. 151

to the discovery of the nest. When in captivity
the bird's note is scarcely inferior to that carolled
in the boughs ; yet it seems hard to keep the little
creature in confinement, for so strong is the instinct
for migration, at the proper period, that the black-
cap will then fall ill and die. And thus, those
who take those wild creatures, and love them well,
yet inflict upon them the saddest sorrows. If, at
this time, the moon shines brightly into the room
where the bird is hung, it becomes most sensibly
affected, for it is on moonlight nights that these
migratory journeys are commenced. In vain the
poor bird flaps its wings, and makes every restless
and distracted effort to escape from the cage ; it
is compelled to endure the anguish thus often
thoughtlessly inflicted, and perhaps to perish from
its inward agony of emotion.

Of all our wild birds, none is known to be of a
more affectionate disposition than our little black-
cap. This is shown when in captivity by its love
to tlie person who attends it. At the approach of
its owner, it will utter a call kept for him alone,
and the voice becomes quite expressive of tender-
ness towards him. It will rush against the bars
of the cage as if to reach him more nearly, and

152 OUR NATIVE SON'GSTERS.

accompany its little cries of recognition by a
joyous clapping of its wings. Bechstein had one,
which, during the winter, he kept in a hothouse,
and which he fed, whenever he entered, with a
meal-worm. Immediately on the entrance of its
master, the little bird would place itself near the
jar in which these worms were placed, and if he
pretended not to notice it, it would fly about,
passing continually under his nose, then go back
to its post, and then repeat the flight, striking its
master with its wing, till its impatient wishes
were gratified.

Xor is the affectionate character of the black-
cap shown only to man. Its love for its mate is
very tender; and its solicitude for her and its
young most marked. If deprived of its liberty
with its family, it will continually feed the young
ones, and even force its distressed mate to eat,
when sori'ow has taken away from her all appetite.
In the wild state, and when the little ones quit
the nest, they will all follow the parent birds,
hopping from branch to branch, in company ; and
at night, the whole fj\mily perch on one branch, a
parent bird at each end, guarding the young ones
which are placed in the middle. They seem to

THE BLACKCAP. 153

dislike cold, for they all press closely against each
other; and the blackcap, when kept in a cage,
spreads some of its feathers over its feet to keep
them warm.

One cannot help feeling a gTcat liking for a
little bird so gentle, and capable of exhibiting so
much attachment. We instinctively prefer it to
the species less susceptible of this. We know
that it is not the result of thought, but the na-
tural impulse of the kind ; and that the wild way-
wardness of the cuckoo, and its consignment of all
care of its young to the stranger bird, is as much
its implanted instinct as is the winning disposition
of the blackcap ; but, as it is in our regard to
individuals of the human family, after making
every allowance in unpleasin'g dispositions, either
on the score of natural and hereditary temper, or
of ill-training, so we still turn away from the
unlovely, to give our regards to tlie loving and
the loveable.

The blackcap usually arrives in our land about
the first week in April, and leaves us in k>cptem-
ber, one or two lingering, now and then, as late
as October. Directly it arrives, it begins looking
about very carefully for a good place for its nest,

154 OUR NATIVE SONGSTEES.

and is exceedingly particular in this selection.
Gardens, orchards, and thick hedges, are its
favourite haunts ; and it builds among the inter-
lacing boughs of the bramble-bush, or among the
thick branches of the hawthorn, whose boughs are
now in leaf, and will soon be adorned with the
scented clusters of spring. The nest is rarely
•found above two or three feet from the ground,
and is made of the dried stems of the common
goosegrass or cleavers, and a small portion of
wool ; and lined with fibrous roots, occasionally
interspersed with a few long briers, or studded on
the outside with tufts of some gTcen moss. Four
or five, or sometimes six eggs are deposited in it.
They arc of a reddish-bro^\Ti tint, mottled with
a darker hue, and sometimes spotted with tiny
dots of an ash colour. The female bird is larger
than her mate, and the top of the head is dark-
brown instead of black.

The blackcap is chiefly a fruit-eating bird,
though sometimes feeding on insects, and taking
them very dexterously when on the wing. On
its first arrival there are few berries to offer it
a repast, save those of the ivy, and it is among the
dark-green boughs of this plant that the earliest

THE GARDEN WARBLEE. 155

song of tlie bird is often uttered. It is especially
fond of these berries, so much so that the Italians,
among whom it resides constantly, know it by the
name of cajponera d'edera, — hedera, or edera, or
hedra, being the name of the ivy in several Euro-
pean countries. In our own land, when the ivy
berries are over, the larvae of various moths and
insects are lying rolled up in the young buds of
trees and flowers, and there the blackcap finds
a meal for itself and young ones until the summer
has ripened the fruits. But when the currants
glisten from the bough, and the strawberries from
the bed, and the glossy clierries are crimsoning
among the leaves, our bird knows how to turn to
account the care of the gardener, and deliberately
helps itself to the very finest and sweetest of the
fruits, as if to repay itself for its destruction of the
insects which, but for its efforts, might have fed
on them instead. There is no sort of fruit or
berry which comes amiss to the bird save those
which are poisonous ; and Avlien tlie black fruits
of the elder- tree appear, the blackcaps find a
delightful harvest. When they have cleared the
trees of these, they depart to other lands.

This bird is one of those known as the heccafico,

156 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

and notwithstanding its small size, and its sweet
singing, is highly prized by epicures on the con-
tinent. It is so shy and suspicions, however, that
it is not easily lured into a trap. It is found,
during summer, throughout Great Britain ; and
occurs frequently in the greater portion of Europe,
being widely diffused through the northern and
eastern countries. In Madeira, as well as at Rome,
it appears to be permanent.

Another species of this genus, the Garden
Warbler* [Curruca hortensi's), is the Fauvette of
Buffon and other French writers, and is commonly
called, in our country, the Olive Fauvet, or Garden
Fauvet, and sometimes the Greater Petty-cliaps.
Buffon says that, of all the inhabitants of the
woods of his native land, these warblers are the
most numerous and agreeable. Lively and nimble,
always in motion, they seem occupied only witli
play and pleasure ; and, as he observes, it is very
amusing to see them pursue each other in sport,
for "their attacks are gentle, and tlieir combats
end with a song." A very sweet song it is, and

* The Garden AVarbler is nearly six inches in length. Upper
parts hair-brown ; under parts dull whitish ; beak and feet pur-
plish-brown.

THE GAEDEN WARBLER. 157

little inferior to that of tlie blackcap, being rich
and flute-like in its tones. It is often heard from
the tree of the shrubbery, or from that of the large
garden, where, amid the foliage, the bird may
sing unseen, or gambol about among the trees,
chasing its companions or the winged insect. It
is very elegant and gTaceful in its movements, but
will rarely give us an opportunity of watching it,
except at a distance, though it is abundant, not
only in gardens and shrubberies, but in copses
and hedgerows : like the blackcap, it is migi'atory,
and comes and departs at about the same season
as that bird. William Howitt has a word in favour
of it, and other of om- little birds : — ■

" Come ye, come ye to the green green wood,

Loudly the blackbird is singing ;
The squirrel is feasting on blossom and beech,

And the curled fern is springing :
Here you may sleep, in the wood so deep,

W^here the moon is so warm and so weary ;
And sweetly awake, when the sun, through the brake.

Bids the fauvette and whitethroat sing cheery."

Shy and wary as it is in its wild state, the garden
warbler soon becomes reconciled to confinement,
and is described by Mr. Sweet as one of the most
delightful and pleasing birds that can be ima-

158 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

o

gined. The long-continued song, "wild, rapid,
and irregular in time and tone," is sung cheerfully
when the bird is placed in a large case with other
birds ; it flies and plays about all day long, but, for-
tunately for it, it is rarely chosen for a cage bird
in England. It is the true beccafico of the Italians,
so celebrated as a luxurious food. Mr. Broderip
quotes an enthusiastic eulogy of this species from
" the Professor, who gave to the world the Phi-
siologie du Goiit," which may be thus translated :
— " Amongst the smaller birds, the beccafico is
unquestionably the first. He fattens, at least, as
well as the redbreast or the ortolan ; and Nature
has bestowed on him besides, a slight bitterness,
and an unrivalled perfume, so exquisite, that they
engage, fill, and beatify all the gustative powers.
If the beccafico were of the size of a pheasant, he
would certainly be pm'chased at the price of an
acre of land. It is greatly to be lamented that
this privileged bird is so seldom seen at Paris.
Some few, indeed, an-ive there, but they are
wanting in that fatness which constitutes their
whole merit ; and one may say, that they hardly
resemble at all those which are to be seen in the
eastern or southern departments of France."

THE GARDEN WAUBLER. 159

What wonder, if, after such praises of our little
bird, the epicure longs to add to his delights a dish
of the garden warbler! Unfortunately, an ex-
cessive attention to the palate soon destroys all
the finer tastes, and the charms of music must
yield to those of the luxuries of the table.

Our graceful bird delights in closely-embowered
and shady places, and here it sings its song, and
builds its nest. This is usually put in some thick
bush, at no great height from the ground. ^Ir.
Yarrell found one in the midst of a row of garden-
peas and the sticks which supported them ; and
saw another lying among some tares in the open
iield. The nest is made of grasses, dried stalks
of plants, and moss, and lined with a few hairs
and the fibres of small roots ; the edges being
wound about with spiders' webs. The eggs are
greenish-white, marked all over with pale ash-
grey and olive -brown spots and streaks.

The garden warbler will eat our currants and
cherries in their season, and take a meal from the
berries on the elder-bough. Its chief food, how-
ever, consists of insects, which it flits after and
catches with much dexterity. As this bird leaves

160 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

US in September, it hardly waits to experience,
the words of the poet —

" The small birds how they fare,
^V^len mother Autumn fills their beaks with corn,
Filch'd from the careless Amalthea's horn ;
And how the wood-berries and worms provide
Without their pains, when earth hath nought beside
To answer their small wants."

Bat far more common than even the garden
warbler is the IVhitethroat* {Curruca cinerea),
another bird called also Fauvette, the Fauvette
grise, or Grisette of BufFon, which is, too, a migra-
tory species, arriving in Britain at the season of
love and hope, of budding trees and flowery
meadows. It is here by the end of April, and
every one used to the country has marked its
white throat and grey chest and black-tipped
head. Notwithstanding that our rural retreats
receive at this season a great accession of
songsters, the hurried but sweet song of the
whitethroat is no small addition to the concert,
and none the less valuable that it is heard so

* The Whitethroat is five inches and a half in length. Upper
parts reddish brown, greyish on the head and neck ; under parts
whitish, tinged from the breast downward with rose-colour; beak
and feet brown.

Y'^ \?

THE WHITETHROAT. 161

often. The bird seems quite a musical enthusiast,
uttering its notes apparently under tlic influence
of great excitement, the throat much distended
and throbbing all the while, and the feathers on
the crown of its head raised up so as to form a
crested tuft, while the vibrating wings and tail
mark the eagerness of the singer. Sometimes it
flies off, wheeling round and round with a quiver-
ing motion, and singing sweetly at the same time,
till having performed several circles in the air, it
comes back to the spot whence it started, and
flnishes the song. The heat of summer now
comes on, and most birds are silent for awhile,
till cooler hours arrive; but not so with our hearty
singer, for its voice may be heard alone amid the
general hush, and when a drowsiness seems to
have come over all the living things around, wliile
it is also continued long after the twilight of
evening. ^Ir. Sweet, who has contributed so
much to our knowledge of the habits and manners
of the small birds, was very fond of the white-
throat, and says, that it is one of the most de-
lightful and pleasing birds that can be imagined,
if kept in a large cage w^th others, when its
antics and friskings are most amusing. He
M

162 OUR NATrn: songsters.

ascertained that there exists in different indi\'i-
duals a great variety as to the quality of the song,
not only when in confinement, but also when wild
in the woods ; and he considers that the singing of
a good whitethroat is little inferior to that of a
blackcap. This writer had one in his possession
for eleven years, and says that it was, at the time
of his writing, in as good health and sang as
well as ever, and that no song need be louder,
sweeter, or more varied. "It is," he says, "of
the same temper as the niglitingale, never suffer-
ing itself to be outrivalled. It will indeed sing
for hours together against a nightingale, now in
the beginning of Januar}% and will not allow
itself to be outdone ; when the nightingale raises
its voice, it does the same, and tries its utmost to
get above it ; sometimes in the midst of its song
it will run up to the nightingale, and stretch out
its neck, as if in defiance, and whistle as loud as
it can, staring it in the face ; if the niglitingale
attempts to peck it away, it is in an instant Hying
round the aviary, and singing all the time."

Our whitethroat has so many familiar country
names, as to suggest the idea that the bird is
a general favourite. It is called Whey-beard,

THE WHITETHROAT. 163

Wheetie-why, CIuut, JMuft, Beardie, Whattie,
Charlie Muftie, Peggj Wliitethroat, Whautie,
and Muggy Cut-throat. One of its most common
provincial names, Xettle-creeper, arises from its
liabit of frequenting hedge-banks, the sides of
woods, or grassy lanes, where the brambles
trail over the gi'ound, and the bracken and the
nettles gather in abundance. It is among large
coarse herbage of this kind that its nest is hidden ;
and a low bush, or a tangled thicket of grass and
nettles, is a favourite spot ; the nest rarely being
placed more than a foot or two above the ground.
The outer part is formed almost entirely of dried
grass stems, and it is lined with flowering grass
stems of a finer description. The eggs are four
or five in number, and are white, spotted and
speckled with ash brown.

The whitethroat clears our rose bushes, honey-
suckles, and other plants, of many of the aphides
which gather on them ; and is of much use too in
destroying caterpillars, of which it is particularly
fond. It is partial also to flies, though less clevei
in catching them than are some birds. But it
does not confine itself to insect diet, and it must
be acknowledged that a little party of these

164 OUR natrt: songsters.

fauvettes, composed of the parent birds and their
young, will make sad havoc among the currants,
cherries and raspberries, if their nest liappens to
be placed near a garden or orchard where these
fruits are growing. Elderberries and blackberries
are a favourite food, but the latter have hardlj
ripened before the birds are away to more con-
genial climes, and better stores of provision. The
greater number depart quite early in September,
but a few stragglers may be seen late in that
month.

The Lesser Whitethroat* ( Currucasylviella) visits
this island at tlie same period as its allied species,
but is by no means a common bird. It is called
also Babbling Warbler, and its French and Latin
names both allude, too, to its song. Li Germany
it is termed Das MilUerchen, or little miller,
because some clacking notes may be heard in its
strain. These notes are very distinct, and are
therefore often thought to be the only song of the
bird, especially as it is, from its habit of frequent-

* The Lesser Whitethroat is five inches and a quai-ter in length.
Upper parts bhickish brown ; sides and flanks grey ; under pai-ts
white tinged with red on the belly ; the oiiter feather of the tail
is white ; beak black ; feet lead-grey.

I

THE LESSER WIIITETIIRO^VT. 165

ing copses and thick hedgerows, and from being
.somewhat uncommon, at least in Britain, not
very often heard. Bechstein, however, who is an
excellent authority in tliese matters, says, that
the song, though weak, is so soft, so melodious,
and so varied, that it surpasses other warblers.
He adds, that while warbling in an undertone, in
continuation, it is perpetually hopping about the
bushes ; but when going to utter its tones of
clap, clap, clap, it stops, and employs the whole
strength of the larynx to pronounce this syllable.
When caged, and by itself in a room, it rarely
utters the clacking tones, and at that time its
voice is peculiarly sweet and agreeable. Both
there, and in its wild bough, its warbling is almost
incessant, so as to deserve its name of babbler.

This bird usually builds its nest among brambles
and low underwood. This is generally formed of
strong coarse grasses, lined inside with some finer
kinds, with fibrous roots and horsehair. The
eggs are smaller than those of the common white-
throat ; sparingly spotted and speckled, chiefly at
the larger end, with light brown and grey. They
are about fi^'c in number.

This bird is very generally diffused over the

166

OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

temperate and wanner parts of Europe and Asia.
Its manners and habits are similar to those^ of the
larger species, and, like it, its food consists of
insects, varied with berries. It frequents thick
copses and licdgerows, and sometimes may be
heard or seen on the top of a tall ehn or otlier
tree.

CHAPTER V.

WHEATEAR STONECHAT — WHIXCHAT.

If in spring and early summer there is a rich-
ness and beauty in our woods and meadows, so
too, at these seasons, the wide-spread downs have
attractions of their own. Desolate indeed they
seem in winter, as the wind sweeps sullenly over
their short grassy turf, bowing down the slender
green twigs of the broom, or the sturdier branches
of the ling, and making a moan through the stiff
spiny boughs of the fm'ze. We can then see
little there that has a brighter tinge than the
grass, save an occasional blossom on the furze,
which is of paler yellow and less wide expansion
than the bloom of summer ; or we may look upon
a tuft of emerald moss, or a bright whitish gi'ey
lichen hanging around the trunk of a solitary
tree, or a gay orange or pale yellow fungus at its
base ; or perchance we may stoop to gather the
little crimson mushroom-like object which glitters

168 OUR NATIVE SONGSTEES.

among the grass, or the tiny vases of the scarlet
cup-moss growing there like masses of coral.
Tlie silence that reigns on the common is far
more dreary than tliat of the woods ; for wlien it
is inten-upted by the wjnds, these bring not tlie
wild and varied melodies which come winding
along the vistas of the woodlands, as tliroiigh the
aisles of a cathedral, nor is the robin so often on
the down to chant its winter song. And as the
wind murmurs in low tones, or comes in sullen
gusts, and as we cast the eye over the wide un-
sheltered waste, we ft-el that winter has here done
its worst.

Vet h(»w gladsome in spring-time is all that
wide connnon, when a blue sky is hanging over
it, and sunshine is gliding its innumerable blades
of grass. Now the gorsc has its thousands of
flowers of brightest gold, and daisies cluster in
multitudes, and tlie little milkwort raises its
blossoms of blue or richest pink above the lowly
sward; and the bright germander speedwell witli
its eye of blue, and the celandine with its star of
gold, are but the heralds of the purple heaths,
and the blue harebells, and the sweet wild thyme,
and the bright golden broom flowers which, in

THE WHEATEAR. 169

tlic later summer, shall make it more beautiful
still.

He who would hear to perfection the song of
the birds, which arises like a psalm of praise from
the open down, should wander thither in the
early morning. Here he may find the wheatears
by hundreds, and as meiTy and musical as he
c(juld desire, though the song is very low and
sweet, and must be listened to in silence to be
heard at all. These birds are very abundant in
some parts of Britain, and pretty generally dif-
fused over our commons. They are also spread
widely throughout Europe, are very plentiful in
Holland, and are especially frequent on the
borders of the Mediterranean, while they are
found also at the extreme north of Europe.
They are very handsome birds, but of a wild and
shy character, hastening from the coming footstep
by running lightly over the grass, or taking a
number of rapid flights from one spot to another,
at a little distance from the ground ; only Hying
higher during their migration. The timid birds
will, if disturbed, utter a sound which resembles
the words " far, far ; " and if one should come
unexpectedly upon the mother bird, while sitting

170 OUR xatht: songsters.

on lier nest, tlie air resounds with tlie cry of
" titreu, titreu." (Jften the spots where the wheat-
ears congregate are so barren, that if they needed
tlie shelter of a bush, they could not even find
a bramble of any size or a furze shrub to cover
them ; but they conceal their nest, and that most
skilfully too, in fissures in the gi'ound, or among
clods or heaps of stones, and if some old wall is
near they will hide it at its base, placing it so
securely that even those accustomed to the habits
of the bird arc often unable to discover it.
Sometimes the nest is hidden in a chalk or gravel
pit, and on some downs the birds avail themselves
of a deserted rabbit warren, where just at the
entrance they build their home. This structure
is large and composed of grasses, wool, moss, and
of feathers and scraps of rabbit's do'svn which
are spn'ad about the common, and it usually
contains six pale-blife eggs. Small pieces of
brake generally lie strewed in little heaps around,
and thus betray the home to the wanderer. The
wheatear is very cunning in luring away any who
may approach its young family, and if a passer
over the common comes towards the nest, the bird
makes a short flight to mislead him, and when she

1

^r

4

w

THE WHEATEAR. 171

sees liim some way off, makes a circular turn and
regains the nest. These birds are so often to be
seen perched on clods of earth, that the French
term the wheatear,* Motfeux, from motte, a clod.
Our country people call this bird by a variety of
names, as Horsematch, Fallow-finch, Fallow-chat,
Fallow- smith, Fallow -smiter, Whitetail, Stone
Chucker, Chickell, and Chackbird. It is the
Saxicola oenanthe of the ornithologist.

As autumn approaches large flocks of wheatears
are congregated on the downs of Sussex and Kent,
whither they have come, singly, or in pairs, from
various inland heaths, to assemble for their
departure. And now is their season of especial
danger, for valued as they are for the table, and
called the English Ortolan, they become at this
season, in consequence of their numbers, a ready
prey to the shepherds who are keeping their flocks

* The Wheatear is six inches and a half in length. The head,
shoulders, and back are light grey ; wings black ; tail-feathers
white on their basal parts, and black at their extremities ; the
forehead, a line over the eye, and the rump white ; the cheeks
and ear-coverts black ; whole under parts buflf, very pale on the
belly ; beak and feet black. In winter the grey of the head and
shoulders becomes rusty brown; the wing-feathers are tipped
with rusty ; and the buflfof the under parts becomes much richer
and brighter.

172 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

on these downs. Tliey are then in good condition
for the tahle, and so suspicious are tliey, that tlie
smallest alarm, even the shadow of a passing: cloud.
will induce them to run into the traps which are
laid for them. These traps are of the most sim-
ple description, yet a shepherd has been known
by their means to capture eighty-four dozen in a
day, six or seven hundred of the traps being
overlooked by one man and his boy. Pennant
states, that in his time about eighteen hundred
and forty dozen were annually caught on the
Eastbourne downs, where they still form a profit-
able trade to the shej)herds. Immense numbers
of birds arrive there, and at Bi-achy Head, daily,
during the months of August and September.
Nor can we, though we i)ity the birds, deprecate
the practice of taking them, since the lower orders
of creatures were made for the service of man,
and the wheatears leave behind them no young
ones to perish of cold and hunger for want of the
care of a parent. But when, in the earlier
months, the sportsman takes his gun to our
moorlands, and brings down the bird which has
a young brood, the practice is a very cruel one,
for the bird is too much injured by the shot to be

THE WHEATE:VR. 173

fit for eating, and the misery of the survivors is
very great.

Large numbers of these wheatears are preserved
and sent to London, but many are sold to tlie
innkeepers and others, and eaten in the neigh-
bourhood of the downs. They are wrapped in
vine-leaves and roasted, and their flavour is
very delicious, especially that of young birds.

The food of the wheatears consists of various
insects, particularly those of the beetle tribe, and
when they are kept in confinement they need a
very large supply. Wild and shy as they are in
their native haunts, ready to run under the first
clod when approached, yet they become tame and
very interesting when reared in the house, and
keep up a perpetual singing — singing on even
during night, if a light is in the room. Mr. Sweet
says of our bird : "It has a very pleasant, variable,
and agTeeable song, different from all other birds,
which in confinement it continues all the winter.
When a pair of them are kept in a large cage or
aviary, it is very amusing to see them at play
with each other, flying up and down, and spreading
their long wings in a curious manner, dancing and
singing at the same time. I have very little

174 OUR NAITS'E SONGSTERS.

doubt but a young bird, brought up from the
nest, might be taught to talk, as thej are very
imitative."

The wheatear is general throughout Britain,
and is very widely diffused during summer over
Europe, being particuhirly abundant on the
northern shores of the ]\lcditerranean. It has
been seen very far north, and Sir J. Ross says of
it, " One of tliese little birds was obsei-ved flj'ing
round the ship in Felix Harbour, 70^ N., 91^ 35'
W., on the second of May, 1830, and was found
dead alongside, the next morning : having arrived
before the ground was sufficiently uncovered to
enable it to procure its food, it liad perished from
want. It is the only instance of this bird having
been met with in Arctic America, in the course
of our several expeditions to those regions."

Another bird, which is often to be heard and
seen by those who ramble over the moorlands, is
the Stonecliat* (SaoriroJa ridn'cola), but tliis prefers
the downs well sprinkled with furze and other

* The Stonecliat is five inches and a quarter in length. Upper
parts black, except the rump and the tertial-coverts which are
white ; wing-feathers edged with brown ; chin and throat black ;
sides of the neck white ; breast rich chestnut-brown, lightening
to buff on the lower parts ; beak and feet black. In winter the

THE STONECHAT. 175

bushes, to those whicli are more barren and stony.
This bh'd is well named stone chatter, or stone
clink, for it keeps up a chattering noise from the
stone where it perches itself, or while flitting
about from one golden furze-bush to another in
short quick flights. Its clicking note is described
by Buflbn as resembling the word " ouistrata,"
and is like the sound of two stones struck to-
gether, or rather that of a stone thrown upon ice.
Both the bird and its note are, however, well
known by those who love to ramble among the
broom and furze and heather, for we can hardly
fail to see it there during the summer months,
and its manners are such as would attract the
attention even of those who rarely notice birds.
It delights in sloping grounds, where briers
and brambles and furze are plentiful, and where
the sunshine rests during a great part of the
summer day. It seems one of the memest and
most agile of birds, hopping about from one bush to
another, as if seeking for something which it cannot
find, or flitting off" in pm'suit of an insect, and the

whole of the dark pliunage becomes broadly tipped with rusty-
brown ; the breast and belly are paler than before. The colours
of the female ai'e not reiy different from this condition.

176 OLTv NATIVE SONGSTERS.

moment after swallowing it, singing a song of
pleasure. Now and then it rests from its almost
continual movements, and perching on the top of
a rock or stone, or on the extremity of some
branch, pours forth a melody which, though short,
comes to us, as we lie on the greensward, as a
chaunt in praise of summer and sunshine. But
even ere the song seems hardly finished, away flits
the bird, rising in the air with sudden springs,
agitating perpetually its tail and its wings, then
coming down "in a sort of pirouette," and now
appearing and disappearing continually. The
movement of the tail has been comj)ared to that
of the clapper of a mill, hence one of the rustic
names for the stonechat, in France, is Traquet.

If we observe this bird dm*ing ^lay, we are
amused by its various windings about the place of
its nest. This is built among the furze or briers,
or among stone walls, and is made of such materials
as the heath land yields, dried grass, a little moss,
and hairs for the lining. Over this nest the male
stonechat hovers, singing all the while his twitter-
ing song, and never entering it directly, but tra-
versing different bushes to reach it ; then emcr2:ini::
again so cautiously, and winding so skilfully

THE STONECHAT. 177

among the bushes, that when we see it with
a worm in its mouth, we may know very well
that the bush which the bird enters is not that in
which we may find its home, though probably it is
not far off. The eggs are five or six in number, of a
grey colour, marked at the larger end with small
spots of reddish brown. The young ones, when
hatched, are covered with down ; and so great is
the solicitude of the parent birds respecting them,
that they make a pei'petual clamour by calling to
them, nor do they ever quit them till they are
capable of providing for themselves.

The stonechat is either a constant resident with
us, or partially migratory, some only of the birds
reared in our downs in spring, leaving them in
autumn. If the weather be severe it is probable
that the parent birds also take refuge in enclosed
grounds or shrubberies ; or some of them may go
further to find a still better spot for warmth and
food. Certainly those who are accustomed to
watch the stonechats on the moorlands, during
summer, miss them much when winter comes ; but
how far they may travel is not fiilly ascertained.

Whatever may be the case with the stonechat,
however, there is no doubt that its companion, the

N

178 OUR NATIVE SONGSTEES.

Whinchat* (Saxicola ruhetra), quite forsakes our
island during tlie winter, seeking a warmer clime,
before the bleak winds have blown away the furze
blossoms, or borne the red leaf from the bramble
on the downs. The bilberry and blackberry are
ripening before it goes, and it pecks at them in
their red state very voraciously, so that one of its
common country names is the Blackberry eater.
From its favourite haunts being the fiu-zy com-
mons, it is also called the Furze-chat and Furze-
wren, and it is the Grand Traquet of the French.
The manners and mode of flight of this bird are
very similar to those of the stonechat, as it flits
about in an equally restless manner, from one
bush to another, uttering continually its clicking
cry of " u-tick, u-tick." Its song is sweet, though
the notes are very rapid, and it is often sung
while the bird hovers over the furze-bush, or sits

* The Whinchat is nearly five inches in length. Wliole upper
parts mottled with light and dark brown, the feathers having
dark centres; a conspicuous streak of white over each eye reach-
ing from the beak to the nape ; the tail-feathers white at their
base; a white spot at the edge of the wing; under parts buff,
becoming fawn-colour on the breiist, where it is separated from
the dark-brown of the cheeks and neck by a margin of white ;
beak and feet black.

THE WniNCHAT. 179

perched on the summit of one of the branches.
Bechstein compares it to thatof thegoklfincli. The
song gi'eets us at early morning, and after having
poured forth its strains during ahnost the wliole
day, the furze-chat still sings it during twiliglit,
and sometimes even at night. Mr. Sweet, whose
successful training of many of our wild songsters
is well known, was very fond of the whincliat.
He had one which he had reared from the nest.
It would sing through the livelong day and during
the night, and liad so good an ear that it would
most successfully imitate the notes of several other
birds. It sang the songs of the whitethroat, red-
start, willow-warbler, missel-thrush and nightin-
gale. So fond was it of the notes of the missel-
thrush, and so clearly did it imitate them, from
hearmg one in a garden near, that the harsh loud
sounds became unbearable in a room. " It was
certainly," says Mr. Sweet, " the best bird I ever
kept of any kind, singing the whole year through,
and varying its song continually. Its only fault
was its strong voice. At last our favourite was
turned out of its cage by a mischievous servant,
on a cold winter day, when we were from home
for about an hour. As we could not entice it

180 Om NATIVE SONGSTERS.

back, it most probably died of the cold, or took its
flight to warmer regions."

This bird is not a hardy one, and cannot well
bear the cold, so that it could have no chance if
turned adrift during the severe season. Doubtless
many of our resident birds must die of cold and
Imnger, whenever the winters are unusually rigor-
ous : yet it is seldom that we find their dead
remains. Now and then the body of a dead bird
lies among the leaves of the wood, or we sec a
few of the whitened bones which were its frame-
work ; but even this is not often. Probably when
the poor little creatures feel tlie benumbing in-
fluences of winter, they go away, moping and
dispirited, to some of the thickest recesses to die;
and no sooner has life quitted them, than beetles
and other Hviiig creatmx'S prey on their lx)dy,
and rid tlic earth of the nuisance which woukl
arise from decomposing carcases.

The whinchat arrives in the south of Enghand
by the middle of April, and usually builds her
nest about a week or two later than the stonechat.
The nest is much like that of this bird, and is
formed of diy grass stalks and a little moss ; the
lining being made of finer grasses. It is usually

THE WHINCHAT. 181

placed on the ground, and is not easily discovered,
for it is often hidden among the lower branches of
the furze-bush, or amid the tangling branches of
the low hawthorn, or of the bramble which winds
its flexible sprays far over the bank. Nor is this
concealment deemed enough by the birds, for diy
grasses and pieces of the surrounding herbage are
placed about the nest so as to eftectually cover it,
and it can be found only by watching the birds
on their way to and fro. The eggs are from five
to seven in number, of a bluish green, marked
with a few small specks of reddish brown.

The whinchat is a pleasing bird, both from its
beautiful colours and its vivacious manners. Its
food consists of worms, slugs, and insects, caught
in the air; and it also eats several of the wild
berries, which hang on the boughs in autumn, as
a provision for the feathered race.

CHAPTER VI.

REDBREAST — REDSTART — BLUE-THROATED WAUBLER.

Who that has wandered into the -woods wlien
autumn has reddened or gilded the leaves, and
left few flowers to brighten the wayside, but has
missed tlie loud chorus of song which greeted him
from those boughs in summer ? Far away over
the fields may be seen the Hocks of fieldfares and
redwings, and where the rivulet wanders among the
grass, the woodcock with its pale brown plumage
has come to seek its retreat. The gulls are
screaming loud over the sea, but the swallows
have taken their departure, and the linnets and
the buntings have come in flocks to be nearer our
dwellings. September has brought a richness of
tint to the woodlands, to compensate in some mea-
sure for the fulness of song, which shall no more
delight us, till months have passed away, and the
little birds of spring shall again be busy and

THE REDBREAST. 183

joyous ; and those which are now, perchance, sing-
ing in warmer climates, shall come back to tlieir
old and long-remembered haunts.

And yet the wanderer now may be greeted by
an occasional strain of music. Even the notes of
the yellowhammer are welcome as the bird flits
beforc us from bush to bush, as if wishing for our
companionship ; and the goldfinch has begun again
to welcome a bright day with a tune ; wliile the
thrush or the blackbird now and then accompanies
tliem, or the hedge-spaiTOw trills a lay from the
bough, or the skylark or the woodlark pours its
flute-like notes into the air. The songs are all
sweet — per] laps the sweeter because we hear tliem
so rarely, but the notes are not so gay as in the
brigliter days of summer. They have a plaintive-
ness, which agrees well with the whispers of the
autumnal winds among the trees, and with the
falling leaves, Avhicli those winds scatter before
them to die.

But these birds are rather the occasional singers,
than the constant minstrels, of the autumnal or
winter months. Not so the robin and the wren ;
for, as the old adage says, " When the robin sings,
look out for winter." No weather, save the gloomy

184 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

rain, will keep it from carolling a lay, nor cold nor
frost give a sadness tx) the song. The frost-bound
earth may be crisp with diamonds, and the leaves
all gone from the trees, and not a flower be left
save the daisy and tlie chickweed, yet robin will
even then sing to the dreary blast, and might in
autumn well suggest such thoughts as the author
of the '* Christian Year " has so beautifully ex-
pressed : —

" Sweet messenger of calm decay,

Saluting sorrow as you may,
As one still beut to find or make the bei?t ;

In thee and in this quiet mead,

The lesson of sweet peace I read,
Rather, in all, to be resign'd than blest

" 'Tis a low chant, according well
With the soft solitary knell.

As homeward, from some grave beloved, wo turn ;
Or by some lowly «leuth-bed dear,
M< st welcome to the chasten'd ear

Of her whom heaven is teaching how to mourn."

AVe all look upon the Redbreast* [Enjtham
rithecula) as the bird of the cold season ; not,

• The Redbreast is five inches and three-quarters in length.
Whole upper parts olive-brown; the wing-coverts tipped with
buff; face, throat, and breast dull orange, margined with grey ;
lower parts impure white ; beak black ; feet purplish-brown.

THE REDBREAST. 185

however, because its singing is really peculiar to
that period, for it is uttered during nearly the
whole of the year. But we hardly hear those
notes amid the louder lays of spring, neither is
the robin then so immediately distinguished from
other birds, as the red colour on the breast is
not so bright in summer. Far better do we
know the bird when want drives it nearer to
our dwellings, and the strain is uttered from the
garden tree, or the leafless hedge by our rural
walk. No resident in the country during mnter
can fail to see and recognise the redbreast, and
one often wonders where so many can have hidden
themselves before. Take a walk into a garden,
now, and away flies the robin, going before you all
the way, stopping if you stop, or if you stoop to
rear some drooping plants, hopping there too, to
see if, as you raise the withered foliage, some slug
or insect is turned up also which may serve for a
meal. Open your window, and place some crumbs
on the sill, and though you may not at first espy
one single redbreast, yet in a few minutes num-
bers of these bright-eyed creatures will assemble
there, and one will be found bold enough to enter
the room, where he,

186 OUR NAXn'E SONGSTERS.

*' Hopping o'er the floor,
Eyes all the smiling family askance,
And pecks and starts, and wonders where he is."

Now and tlicii tlie housewife of tlie fcirni-liouse
or cottage is annoyed because tlie redbreasts will
come into the bedrooms every evening for shelter,
but generally the "minstrel of the poor" is a
favoured bird. If undisturbed it will often keej)
to its winter (quarters till spring comes back aj:ain,
never showing the slightest inclination to de])art,
but looking down with a half-timid, half-hopeful
inquiry, to see if it is welcome to some elevation
in the room, on which it has placed itself. In
forests when woodmen are emjdoyed, these birds
become their constant companions, sharing their
meals, and hojtping around their fire for warmth ;
and the gardener often finds it dithcult to avoid
injuring them by his spade, whieli they aj)proacli
so nearly, when he is digging in the earth. Treat
the robin kindly, and you may be sure of a song
from the garden hedge ; and whistle to it, or sing
it a few notes, and it will listen and answer. Not a
woodland bird has a sweeter or softer tune, though
many sing louder and more varied strains. Its best
melody is in spring and summer, when it is far

THE REDBREAST. 187

more joyous too, in its expression, than in the
more plaintive pipings of autumn, or the more
abrupt strains of the inclement season. In sum-
mer time that song is heard at earliest dawn, but
it is never sung after evening twilight, although
the redbreast may be seen fluttering among those
of our birds which are latest in seeking repose.
A welcome song it is after some days of summer
rain and showers, for if uttered in the evening its
sprightly notes give full promise that to-morrow
will be finer than to-day, as robin with his quick
sensibilities knows that the sunshine is coming.
From our hearing the robin comparatively little
when its song is best, its vocal powers are not
often duly estimated. A good observer, writing in
the ^lagazine of Natural History, thus remarks :
— " I have frequently heard this bird sing in a
manner to do honour to its connexion with the
nightingale, when it has been disputed whether or
not it could be the robin. I would at any time
silence tlie finished song of the chafiinch, in three
distinct parts, to listen to the note of my warm-
hearted friend, Kobin. I doubt even if there be
any bird I w^ould prefer but the nightingale itself:
I hesitate as to the blackcap." When the bird
is suddenly alarmed it utters a kind of chirp, or

188 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

call-note, and if this be imitated, all the redbreasts
in the neighboui'hood will quickly be gathered to
the spot. The old notion, once generally believed
in England, that a chorus of robins preceded the
death of some inmate of a dwelling near, is almost
forgotten now : but a chorus is rarely heard, for
the robin sings and dwells alone.

White, of Selborne, remarked that the songsters
of the autumn seem to be the young male red-
breasts of that year ; and this statement is con-
firmed by many observers. Our poor little birds
are seldom caged in this country, nor is there
much inducement to imj)rison them thus, for
though they will now and then utter a merry carol
when in confinement, yet they are usually dull
and dispirited, and seem anxious to escape. In
Germany they are, however, kept in aviaries and
large rooms, with better success, and soon become
tame. Several of our good singing birds can be
taught to imitate the human voice, and ^Ir. Syme
tells us of a redbreast, possessed by a lady of his
acquaintance, which very distinctly pronounced
tlie words, " How do you do? "

It is, perhaps, as much by its touching song, as
by its confidence in man, that the robin is a
favom-ite in most countries. Every^vbe^e some

THE REDBREAST. 189

pet name is bestowed on the liouseliold bird.
Thus our Robin or Bob, is in some parts of
Sweden called Tommy Liden; in Norway, Peter
Ronsmed ; in Germany, Thomas Gierdet. Words-
worth alludes to these familiar names : —

*' Art thou the bird whom man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,

Our little English Robin ;
The bird that comes about our doors

"When autumn winds are sobbing ?
Art thou the Peter of Norway boors ?

Their Thomas in Finland

And Russia far inland ?
The bird that by some name or other
All men who know thee call brother."

Most Englishmen have wept, during childhood,
over the fiction, which was then taken as a truth,
and which told of the redbreast and the babes of
the wood. It was but a poet's tale, though related
with simple beauty; and while it has helped to keep
up the privileged character of the bird, yet doubt-
less it had its origin in the favour in which Robin
had been held from still earlier times : —

" Their pretty lips with blackberries
Were all besmear' d and dyed ;
And when they saw the darksome night.
They sate them down and cried.

190 OUE NATIVE SONGSTERS.

" No burial this pretty pair
Of any man receives ;
Till robin redbreast, painfully,
Did cover them with leaves."

Nor was the idea of the redbreast's care in this
matter peculiar to this poem. We find it alhided
to in several ohl writers. Thus, John Webster,
who wrote in 1G30 — 1638, says : —

•' Call for the robin redbreast, and the wren,
Since o'er shady groves they hover,
And with leaves and flowers do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men."

Michael Drayton too alludes to it : —

" Covering with moss the dead's unclosed eye,
The little redbreast teacheth charitie."

Then we have Herrick, in his Hesperides,
telling how Amarillis, soothed by the low mur-
murings of a spring, fell asleep : —

" And thus f^leeping, thither flew
A robin redbreast; who, at view,
Not seeing her at all to stir,
Brought leaves and moss to cover her."

Nor has the greatest of all England's poets
omitted the allusion to a tradition so poetic. In
" Cymbeline," we have Shakespere saying, —

THE REDBREAST. 191

" The ruddock would,
With charitable bill, (0 bill, sore shaming
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a monument,) bring thee all this ;
Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
To winter-ground thy corse.

There was evidentlj, in the olden time, a pretty
generally diffused notion,, that the robin strewed
the graves of the friendless, who had none to cover
them, or to plant a flower on the tomb. It is not
easy in later days to detect the origin of legends,
but in this case there is one practice of the bird,
which, combined with his love of man, might
suggest the notion to some imaginative mind. If
the spot on which the robin builds its nest is not
well hidden by the surrounding foliage, the birds
often cleverly conceal it, by amassing a number
of withered leaves around the spot. The mother-
bird will also sometimes, when leaving her nest,
cover over the eggs in the same way. Shakespere
calls our bird the ruddock ; and it is still in some
counties called so. It is doubtless a corruption of
redcock.

But much as the robin wins our regard by its
confiding companionship, yet it must be confessed
that it has a trait of character not quite so pleasing.

192 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

It is well known to be among the most pugnacious
of birds, seeming to hail with delight any oppor-
tmiity of making a quarrel, and driving away,
with most determined resistance, any intruder into
the domain whicli it considers its own; so that
two nests are rarely found near together, thus
confi]*ming the old Latin proverb, " Two robins
cannot dwell in one bush." Nor does the red-
breast fight only with birds of its own species.
Tlie poor house-sparrow, itself rather a quarrel-
some bird, if one may judge from its perpetual
clamours with its companions, is pecked at wlien
no harm is done, by our wilful robin ; and even
the little merry, gentle, peace-loving hedge-
sparrow or dunnock, is buffeted with angry blows
by this quarrelsome bird. It is just the same
when kept in confinement. Either it must have
a room all to itself, or it will fight perpetuaUv with
another bird, till one of the two is fairly con-
quered. Bechstein says, that if two redbreasts
share a large room, they will divide it ; and each
taking possession of a half, will remain at peace,
unless one should pass its limits, in which case
war begins, and is kept up to the last extremity.
This, however, is only in cases where the strengtk

THE REDBREAST. 193

is pretty equal ; for if one be much weaker than
the other, the stronger robin will show its com-
panion no mercy. If a petted redbreast should
come to a spot and find another there, the poor
bird will have no rest, but will be annoyed by every
means which robin's petty rage can devise, even
if it escape being killed. Mr. Thompson, in his
Notes of a Naturalist, records several instances
of the redbreast's pugnacity. It will, he says, in
some cases completely blind it to its own safety,
as he witnessed in a combat between two birds
at Margate. This was commenced at the most
frequented part of the town, and the redbreasts
struggled together at the feet of the passengers,
rose in the air while continuing the conflict, and
finally fell into the harbour. Here they were
picked up, still most pertinaciously clinging to
each other. This ^mter, as well as other observers,
has remarked that the tendency to fighting is
gi-eater during autumn than at any other season.
He nan*ates a singular instance, which occurred
at the close of September, 1835. " I heard," he
says, " a robin warbling in a tree, in a small gar-
den adjoining my house, and wishing to excite its
attention, I placed in the window-sill a beautifully
0

194 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

stuffed specimen of the "bird, which was soon per-
ceived. The song became louder and louder, and
in longer strains, as if sounding a challenge.
Presently he made a flight of inspection as far as
the window, which, after an interval, was repeated,
but in the shape of an attack. So violent was it,
that he threw the stufted bird to the ground from
tlie heiglit of two stories, pursuing it as it fell,
and attacking it violently when do^^Ti. I then
perched it on an empty box standing in the yard,
the live bird remaining witliin a yard of me while
I was doing so, and the moment I withdrew a few
paces, he renewed the charge with such obstinacy
that I could easily have caught him ; and on my
recovering the stuffed bird, he resumed his place
on the box, strutting about witli an expanded tail
and an erect attitude, as if claiming and pro-
nouncing a A-ictory. Shortly after, on noticing
the bird to be still hovering about the neighbour-
hood, I replaced my specimen on the window-sill,
securing the stand by a brad-awl ; and hardly had
I done so, before the robin resumed the war by
settling on the head of his unconscious foe, digging
and pecking at it with the greatest rage and
violence. I then interfered, and removed the

THE REDBREAST. 195

object of strife, but the robin kept watcli in the
neiglibourhood clm-ing the rest of the day, and
was singing his triumphs even in the shades of
the evening."

Country people say, that if a robin shows
particular attachment to any person, it is a fore-
runner of his decease. A very little acquaintance
Avith these birds will, however, show the fallacy
of this opinion, for they are much pleased to be
noticed, and quarrelsome as they are with other
birds, are easily won into friendship with man.
The writer of these pages had a robin which came
daily and pecked the crumbs from the table ; it
would answer by a chirp, if spoken to caressingly,
and througliout the winter slept in her bedroom,
roosting on a nail in a corner near the ceiling.
At night, while tlie candle was burning, it would
sit perfectly still with its bright eyes peering at
all that was going forward; and in the morning
would hop and chirp about the room, most
merrily, coming quite near for its breakfast.
After this, it generally flew out at the open
window, and at about four o'clock would hop
about on the sill waiting for its re-opening, when
it would dart in, and take its accustomed seat,

196 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

chirping all the while its note of friendly recogni-
tion, and looking up as if waiting for a smile or
word in return.

Redbreasts are very useful little birds in slirub-
beries, orchards, and gardens, and in many places
are much encouraged by fruit gi'owers, on account
of the number of insects wliich they devour ; they
dart do-\vn upon these, as they lie among the
leaves or herbage, seize them when the plough or
the spade turns them up from the earth, and may
be seen shaking the earthworm in their bill, and
breaking it up into little pieces before eating it.
It must be owned that they will, now and then,
regale themselves with some ripe currants, or
cany some oft" to their nestlings ; and they will
bear away, too, the red berries from the daphne in
the garden, which are poisonous to all animals
save birds ; nor are they afraid of the almost
equally noxious fmits, which hang, in autumn,
from the boughs of the woody nightshade. In
winter, they are chieHy dependent on such grains
and crumbs as they can find about houses ; but
who w^ould deny to the little birds wdiich will
sing to us so sweetly, and which have during
the summer so effectually cleared our gardens of

THE REDBREAST. 197

insects, the meal wliicli their small necessities
require ?

The robin is a very early nest builder. A per-
fectly finished nest has been found as early as
January 14tli, and may often be seen in February,
when as yet the other birds have not thought of
pre|)aring a house ; and by April the nests of the
redbreast are very common. Two or three broods
are reared in a season ; and the nest is made of
dried leaves, moss and grasses, and lined with
hair. The eggs are five in number, and are white,
spotted with pale reddish brown.

Various places are chosen by this bird for its
nest, and Bishop ]\Iant well describes such as are
cominpnly selected : —

" Most of all to haunts of men
Familiar, though to savage glen
And woodland wild he oft may roam
Secluded, oft his wintry home ;
No less the redbreast makes his bower
For nestlings in the vernal hour;
In thatch or root of aged tree,
Moss-grown, or arching cavity
Of bank or garden's refuse heap ;
Or where the broad-leaved tendrils creep
Of ivj, and an arbour spread
O'er trellised porch or cottage shed."

198 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

It is in just such places as these that one would
look for a robin's nest ; but our bird by no means
confines itself to such, for it sometimes makes a
selection of some most strange and out of the way
spot. Thus, a pair of robins have been known to
rear their young in the festoon of an unused bed ;
others, in a hothouse among some strawbeny
plants, and under the immediate eye of the gar-
dener. Another pair strewed the withered leaves,
by way of beginning, on the shelves of a gentle-
man's library, intending to rear their yoimg ones
in a learned neiglibourhood. On one occasion, a
pair of redbreasts chose for their abode a potato
warehouse, close to a blacksmitli\s shop, which was
frequently visited by the owners, besides that it
resounded with tlie perpetual din of forge and anvil
from the dwelliug near it. Nothing daunted, how-
ever, the robins entered tlirough an open window-
pane, and built their first nest in a toy-cart,
which was hanging over the fireplace. Many
of the neighbours, attracted by the singularity
of the circumstance, visited the nest ; but the
birds reared their first brood in peace and hope.
When the younglings flew away, the redbreasts
began preparing for another family, and they

THE REDBREAST. 199

made tlicir second nest on a shelf opposite the
foTiiler one, and close by a mouse-trap ^ and here
the nestlings throve, till in due time they too
went away to wood or garden. Choosing another
shelf, in a different corner of the room, the old
birds made a third n^st ; and there in this moss-
covered dwelling, placed on a bundle of papers,
the four nestlings might be seen, on Midsummer-
day, in their half-fledged state, fed by the mother
bird, and watched on the outside by her mate,
while several persons were looking on. It was
well known tliat all the nests w^ere built by the
same robins, as the hen-bird was rendered very
conspicuous by the loss of her tail feathers.

The Rev. W. T. Bree relates a singular place
chosen for nidification. " A few years ago," says
this naturalist, " a pair of robins took up their
abode in the parish church of Hampton in Arden,
Warwickshire, and for two years in succession
affixed their nest to the church Bible, as it lay on
tlie reading-desk. The worthy vicar would on no
account have the bird disturbed ; and accordingly
introduced into the church another Bible, from
which to read the lessons. A question has been
facetiously asked, whether these birds were not

20r» OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

guilty of sacrilege ; not so much on account of
the daring Jiberty they had taken with the sacred
volume, as for having plundered the Trope -ends
out of the belfry, wherewith to construct their
habitation. Be this as it may, the old women of
the village took it into thcii; heads that the cir-
cumstance of the robin's building on the Bible was
liiglily ominous, and foreboded no good to the
vicar. It so happened that he died in the month
of June of tlie second year of the bird's building
in the churcli; an eveut which no doubt con-
firmed the old women in their-^uperstition,

' Ni frustra augurium vani <locuere parentes.' — Virrjil.
' l'ule3.s
My parents taught me augury in vain ; ' —

Trapp's Trantlatinu.

and will be renuinlu'red and handed down to pos-
terity, for the benefit of any future vicar, should
the robins agahi make a similar selection."

The redbreast loses, in summer, nearly all the
hue to which it owes its name. Tlie first appear-
ance of the red colour is about the end of August,
but the bird is not fully red-breasted till the close
of September. Young redbreasts are very diflerent
in plumage from the adult birds, as they are

^L

r-

THE REDSTART. 201

marked all over with rust-coloured spots on a
light ground. The robin is very generally dif-
fused over England, Ireland, and Wales, and
is also an inhabitant of the northern counties of
Scotland. Though a resident with us through the
year, it is migratory in some of the colder countries
of tlie continent. There are ornithologists also
who think that the female and young birds leave
us in the winter, as none but male robins haunt
our houses and gardens at that season.

In some countries, where the legends so favour-
able to the robin are unknown, these birds are
caught by dozens for the table. This is the case
in Greece, and Mr. Waterton saw them exposed
for sale in the markets of Italy.

The pretty merry Redstart* {Phoenicura ruti-
rilla) , though by no means so common a bird as the
redbreast, yet also haunts the dwellings of man, and
comes to our orcliards and gardens, or frequents

• The Keilstart is five inches and a quarter in length. Uj>per
parts lead-colour; wing-quills brown with pale edges; tail-feathers
with their coverts rust-brown ; forehead white ; face, sides of the
Tieck, and throat black ; under parts pale chestnut. The female
has the colours less decided ; and wants the white on the fore-
head, and the black of the face and throat. Beak black ; feet
brown.

202 OUR NATR'E SONGSTERS.

the copses or borders of the larger wood. This
brisk little bird flits along with great quickness,
snapping, on its way through the air, at the insect
hovering there, and seldom failing in securing its
victim. Then, too, the elegant and bright creature
hops along the ground with the greatest gaiety,
vibrating its reddish tail continually; or sometimes
it sits aloft on some tree, singing its soft sweet
song, ever accompanying it with this vibrator}'
movement, whether it utters it from tlie bough, or
in its flittings through the air from one low tree
to another. It seems very fond of ivied ruins, and
as its song sounds in these romantic places, it
reminds us of "Wilson's words : —

" I could na* see the bonnie bird,

She cower'd sae close upon her nest ;
But that saft it her sang I heard,

That luUM her and her brood to rest.

" Sweet through the silent dawning rung
The pleasure of that lovely sang;
And the auld tower again look'd young,
That psalm sae sweetly stole alang,"

Tliis song, which is sung from morning till
night, has been heard as early as three o'clock in
the morning, when it had not ceased on the pre-
ceding evening before ten. Like most sweet

TIIE REDSTART. 203

singers, tlie bird has a delicate ear, and imitates,
even in a wild state, the notes of other birds,
" embellishing," as Bechstein says, " its natm*al
song (composed of several rather pretty strophes)
by adding the notes of other birds with which it
associates." One which had built beneath the
eaves of this writer's house, imitated pretty closely
the song of a chaffinch which was himg in a cage
beneath ; while a neighbour of his had a redstart
in liis garden, which repeated the notes of a
bhickcap tliat had a nest near it. In confine-
ment it is said by Sweet to be able to learn
to sing any tune that is whistled or sung to it.
( )ne which he possessed, learned the " Copenhagen
AN'altz," that it had frequently heard sung, only
it would sometimes stop in the middle, and say
•' chipput," a name by which it was generally
called, and which it would repeat whenever its
master entered the room, either by day or night.
( )tlier birds of this species have been known to
imitate very closely the notes of the sparrow, and
the songs of the garden warbler and the lesser
whitethroat, the robin and the blackcap. Its own
song, though soft and sweet, has little variation,
and no gi*eat force.

204 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

The name, from the Saxon, steor-t^ a tail, is signi-
ficant of the peculiar horizontal motion of this part
of the bird, which motion does not resemble that
of the wagtail, but, as a naturalist has observed, is
more like that of a dog. The young redstart is so
like a newly-fledged redbreast, that it would often
be mistaken for it, were not this vibration of the
tail so marked as at once to distinguish it. The
bird is in many country-places called Fire-tail, from
the bright red colour of its tail-feathers ; and in
some districts it is termed Bran-tail. The redstart
builds its nest very loosely: it is made chiefly of
moss and stalks of grasses, well lined with feathers,
intermixed sometimes with a little down, or hair.
The eggs are five or six in number, and of a fine
greenish blue. The places usually chosen for the
nest are holes in garden walls, ledges in out-
houses, and retreats among the dark green ivy.
But the redstart is one of those birds which occa-
sionally builds in some unusual spot. Thus, the
Rev. AV. T. Bree mentions a pair wliicli once
built under an inverted flower-pot, which had
been accidentally left on a gravel path. The
birds, of course, entered by the small drain-hole at
the top, and much wonder was excited as to how

THE REDSTAUT. 205

the young birds were to emerge from this dark
dwelliiig-ph\cc. But they were, as the naiTator
remarks, '' eventually indebted to female curiosity
for their emancipation. A lady lifted up the pot
to see whether the birds were there ; when the
whole brood, taking advantage of so favourable
an opportunity, made their escape, darting forth
in all directions, like rays from a centre." A
redstart has been known to return regularly, for
sixteen summers, to the garden where it first
built.

The redstart is most attached to its young. If
any harm seems likely to befal them, both the
parent birds evince the greatest distress, and
perching on some near spot keep up an unceasing
clamour till the danger is over. While the hen
bird is hatching, her companion watches over her
most carefully, and at the slightest alarm keeps
up a repetition of some low, plaintive, garrulous
notes of warning. The helplessness of the young
birds seems an object of constant solicitude, nor
is it alone the wants of their own young which
can thus call forth their love and care. An
instance is recorded in which a similar feeling was
evinced for the young brood of other birds. A

206 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

pair of redstarts built in the garden of the gentle-
man who relates the faet, and became very inte-
resting to him by tlie affection whieli the male
bird showed to his mate while sitting. Tliis bird
would sit on a tree near the nest, watcliing it
witli the gi'catcst anxiety. Some days after it had
been thus observed, the narrator, to liis grief, saw
a boy throw a stone at the l)ird, and kill it. " On
my going to tlie place the next day," he says,
" I was excessively surjirised to see a male red-
start sitting on the very same tree from which,
the day before, tlie other had been knocked down.
On my going near the nest, it flew away, with evi-
dent tokens of alarm ; and on my putting my liand
to the nest, the hen bird flew off. All I need say
in addition is, that the eggs were hatched; and the
foster-father, for such he certainly was, assisted,
as the cock birds usually do, tlie hen in bringing
up the young brood."

The food of the redstart consists of slugs, worms,
various insects and their larvae and of several kinds
of berries. It has been accused of watching the
beehives, and seizing on the industrious little crea-
tures when they emerged to roam the garden ; but
this charge seems to be quite without foundation.

THE REDSTAET. 207

The redstart is a summer resident with us
from the south. It is in no part of Britain very
abundant, and in some districts is a rare bird. In
Holland, France, Spain and Italy, it is very plen-
tiful : it also visits Germany, and migrates to
Russia, Norway and Sweden. It arrives in our
island in April, and departs by the end of Sep-
tember. The French call this bird Rossignol de
7nui', though, as Belon says, in his Portraits
(T (hjseaux^ "In comparison of the nightingale it
sings nothing of any Avortli."

The Black Redstart [PJicenicura titliys) claims
but a slight notice, since it is but an occasional
visitor to our island. Its breast, instead of being
red, like that of its allied species, is black as ebony.
It delights in rocky, stony places, and makes its
nests in clefts of rocks, in the wild, or builds near
houses, in holes of walls, its little dwelling of
grass, lined with hair. Bechstein says, that its
voice contains a few high, clear notes, which may
be heard from an early hour in the morning, till
night. It is common in most of the temperate
countries of Europe and Asia.

The Blue-throated Warbler, or Blue-throated
Robin [Phcenicura Suecica)^ is another species, of

208

OUR NATRT. SONGSTERS.

which an occasional straggler reaches our island.
Few instances only are recorded of its visits here ;
though during summer it is diflfuscd over a great
part of the continent. Its song is described as
very pleasing, commencing with the dawn of day,
and continued at evening, long after most singnig
birds have gone to rest. It is abundant in the
South of France, especially in Alsace and Lor-
raine. In the latter country it is esteemed a great
delicacy, and large numbers of these sweet little
songsters are taken f^r th<^ table.

CHAPTER VII.

TITMICE — SHRIKES.

There are several of our birds which, without
being good singers, add some share to the melody,
and much to the life which, in spring-time, is so
cliaracteristic of the woods of our island. Such
are the cuckoo and the dove, whose monotonous
tones are pleasing from their association with
nature and with spring. Such is tlie loud note
of the nuthatch, which utters its cry of " guiree,
guirce, guiree," as it runs along the boughs of the
trees, or rejoices in the kernel which its strong
bill lias just enabled it to extract from the sliell.
Such, too, is the cry of the fly-catcher, whicli,
though the bird is no singer, has a chirp of joy
and triumph, as it darts from its post to capture
the passing insect, and bring it down for its meal.
These are among the notes of the woodland,
which, though not in themselves strictly musical,
P

210 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

almost seem so to the lover of nature, and if
they can boast of little harmony, at least are not
discordant.

Something superior to the notes of these birds,
are those of some of our native species of tit-
mouse ; and though we cannot agree with that
old lover of birds, Belon, who says, in his Por-
traits d^ Oijseaux^ of the largest species, that they
are " little birds which sin^ like angels," yet, we
must confess to liking well tlie song of the great
titmouse ; while all will admit, that to the active,
restless family of tits, we owe somewhat of the
cheerfulness of the woods in spring. Most merry,
busy, courageous little birds are these, and the
song of the Greater Titmouse,* or Ox-eye {Parus
major), is assuredly not without some music in it,
though little varied, and it has a cry composed of
notes so harsh and gi*ating, that they have been
compared to the shaq^ening of a saw, and obtained

* The Great Tit is nearly six inches in length. The head
black ; the back and shoulders greenish-ash; the rump and small
wing-coverts bluish grey; the rest of the wing dark bluish grey
edged with white ; tail bluish-black ; a spot on the nape, and a
large one on each side of the neck white ; under parts dull yel-
low, with a stripe of black along the middle of the beUy, which
widens on the throat and joins the black of the head ; beak
black; feet grey.

THE TITMOUSE. 211

for it in France the name of Le Serrurier. It is one
of our earliest builders in spring, placing its nest
in some hole where wind and rain cannot reach it,
yet making it nicely of moss, and lining it with
hair and feathers. The nest contains from six
to nine eggs, with a white ground, speckled and
spotted with red. The usual food of the bird
consists of insects, and one may be amused by
watching the address w^ith which the titmice gene-
rally will clear the trees of this tribe. They
may be seen peering into the crevices of the
boughs, going on from one to another, and sus-
pending themselves in all manner of attitudes,
till suddenly they espy some traces of insects.
They will then seize with the greatest vigour the
buds where these lie concealed, and tear them
quickly to pieces. Yet let not the owner of the
tree blame the birds. Those buds would never
have come forth into healthy shoots, for a worm
lying at the core had destroyed their vitality,
and was still there ready for further mischief.
The titmice, it is true, will eat the ripe pear,
and make a meal of the ruddy apple, which so
few small birds relish ; but the immense num-
ber of caterpillars, small worms, and eggs of

212 OrR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

insects which they consume, place them rather
on the list of benefactors to the garden, than
on that of depredators. One charge against the
greater titmouse appears to be correct, which is,
that it destroys bees ; on which account it is called
Croque aheiUe in some country places in France. It
is said to watch the bees, and consume large num-
bers. It eats also grain and berries, and some
oleaccinous seeds, which it will hold down with its
feet upon the branch, and by striking with the
hard bill, will pierce the shell, and extract the
kernel. The greater titmouse is the largest
European species, and is courageous and even
ferocious in its habits. None of our small birds
will attack the owl with so much spirit as this
tit, whicli will dart at him with the greatest rage,
with rutiled plumes, and noisy shrieks, the cries
resounding through the air, and calling many
other birds of its own species to its assistance.

It shares, too, with the shrikes and crows the
appetite for flesh, and will eat dead birds, and,
when in confinement, kill living ones.

This active restless bird is very common in
thick woods in the neighbourhood of gardens. In
winter it approaches our dwellings, to look for the

0^

THE TITMOUSE. 213

few flies or other insects yet to be found, or to
gather the grain scattered among the refuse of the
farm-yard.

The titmice are much to be admired for the
rich tints of tlieir plumage. The greater tit has
the most beautiful black feathers on the head and
throat, which are brilliantly radiated with blue ;
and the no less common Blue Tit* (Parus cwruleus)
has the crown of the head of the most vivid blue,
bounded on each side by a band of white. This
is the blue titmouse, and the Billy Biter of the
schoolboy, who, on his bird-nesting expeditions,
has perchance known what it was to be pecked at
and hissed at by this courageous little bird. But
the monotonous tones of the blue tit, heard often
as early as February, do not entitle it to a place
among our singing birds, nor will the rapidly
uttered notes of the Marsh Tit {Parus imlustris)^

* The Blue Tit ia four inches and a half in length. Crown of
the head light blue ; back and rvunp green ; wings and tail light
blue ; the greater wing-coverts and tertials tipped with white ;
face and sides of the neck white, divided by a stripe of rich deep
blue passing from the beak through each eye to the nape ; another
band of deep blue bounds the white below, coming round like a
collar to the throat, and thence extending upwards to the chin,
and downwards over the breast ; under parts pale yellow ] beak
and feet nearly black.

214 OTJR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

heard among the hushes and osiers which fringe
the waters, merry as they may he, arrest our foot-
steps by their music. Tlie blue tit is useful in
ridding us of insects in spring and summer, and is
still more so in clearing them when they lie hidden
in the buds of winter or early spring. So cleverly
does it pick the bones of small birds, on which
it feeds, that Klein proposes to employ it in the
preparation of skeletons.

Then, too, we have that busy little bird, the Cole-
tit, or Colcmousc {Pants oter), which everybody
who has lived in the country knows as a gi'cat fre-
quenter of our gardens and shrubberies, coming
there to seize the insects, or to gather the seeds
of the pines and larches, which it stores away in
some hole, for its future necessities. But its song,
if song it may be called, is little more than a chirp,
and cannot rival at all the soft, clear, ringing notes
which may be heard among the reeds of the
marshes, where the rare Bearded Titmouse [Cola-
mopliilus hiarmicus) sings them out in soft and silver
tones. But the song of the Long-tailed Tit* (Pants

* The Long-tailed Tit is five inches and a half in length.
Head and face greyish white ; a patch of black passes over each
eye ; back and rump greyish-red, with a broad triangular patch

iw^;

THE TITMOUSE. 215

caudatus) is not so sweet, but certainly more often
heard, than that of the bearded species, though the
bird rcmain.s all tlie year in thick woods, and has
little familiarity Avith man, and those only who are
in the habit of penetrating among green boughs
can hear its song or find its nest. This is a most
beautiful structure, and difters from that of any
other British bird. It is an oval or bottle-shaped
dome, firmly made of moss and wool, prettily
sprinkled over with lichens, and being so abun-
dantly lined with feathers, that the young long-
taib repose on a downy bed. It is usually placed
in a bush, and here twelve or fourteen nestlings
are hatched and fed, and in tliis little home learn
to love each other so well, that notwithstanding a
few squabbles in their early days, the whole family
whisk about the woods together all the rest of
the year. When night comes, they roost all
together on the bough of some thick evergreen,
and after having dis])uted awile for the warmer
places, suddenly cease their clamour, and sleep in
^)eace till the dawn of morning. The young

of black between the shoulders ; wings and tail black, edged with
white ; under parts greyish-white, tinged on the sides with pink ;
beak and feet black.

216 OUR TsATlVE SONGSTERS.

birds look almost like little lumps of down, as they
wind their way among the boughs, in pursuit of
insects. They have several call-notes, and though
one of these is very soft and low, it hardly deserves
to be called a song.

The nest is usually placed so firmly in a bush,
in the very centre of the boughs, that these must
be cut away by any one who would preserve its
beauty. The eggs are ten or twelve in number,
small and wliite, sometimes speckled with a few
red dots. The long-tailed tit is common in
almost all our woods and shrubberies, and its
food consists almost entirely of insects.

Kesembling tlie titmice in their carnivorous pro-
pensities, the Shrikes have a far higher reputation
as singing birds. The Great Grey Shrike* {Lanius
exci(hitor), the cruel butcher-bird, has a sweet
warbling song, though its rich melody is sometimes
lessened by the intermingling of some harsh tones.
It is said to have a power of imitating the notes
of other birds, and though this is denied by some

* The Grey Strike is ten inches in length. Whole upper parti
pearl grey ; wings and tail black, tipped with white ; a patch of
white at the base of the primaries ; a band of black passes from
the beak to the ear-coverts, enclosing the eye ; under jxirts pure
white : beak and feet black.

THE SHEIKE. 217

ornithologists, yet there seems good authority for
believing that it exists. Bechstein says of our
shrike, that it imitates the notes, though not the
songs, of other birds ; and the statement of a
writer in the Naturalist tends to confirm this
opinion. This writer tells us that he was first
led to discover this shrike, by hearing notes very
similar to those of a stonechat, yet not quite
familiar to his ear. These he ascertained were
uttered by the butcher-bird, and as he listened he
found them soon exchanged for softer and more
melodious tones ; not, however, prolonged into a
continuous song or strain. Wliether the opinion,
held from, earliest times, be true or false, that the
shrike lures the singing bird into its clutches by
imitating its tunc, we well know that the small
birds, as well as various animals, have good reason
to dread it, both for its power and skill in making
them its prey ; and they seem terrified by its pre-
sence near their nests. It feeds on mice, shrews,
frogs, lizards, and small birds ; adding to its meal
some of our larger insects, as grasshoppers and
beetles. Nor will a small amount of food sufiice
to satisfy its appetite. Its own voracity, and that
of its hungry little ones, make great demands on

218 OUR XATIYE SONGSTERS.

the helpless creatiu'es which are its \dctims. The
strike has a singular habit of fixing its slaughtered
animals on a thorn, or on the forked branch of a
tree, and so hanging them up, as a butcher might
do the animals destined for sale ; hence its familiar
name of butcher-bird. A naturalist who kept this
species in confinement, observed that when a bird
was given to it, it always broke the skull, and
usually ate the head first. Sometimes it held the
bird in its claws, and pulled it to pieces as a hawk
would do; though it seemed to prefer forcing a
portion of it through the wires, and then pulling
at it, always hanging up on the sides of its cage
any part which remained after its meal. , It would
often eat three small birds in a day.

Our shrike has a number of familiar names, and
many of those, both of our own and other lands,
refer to its habits. Thus it is called the Mountain
Magpie, the Murdering Pie, and the Shreek, in
various parts of this island. Willoughby says, that
in the north of England it is termed Weirangle ;
and the Germans also call it WerJcangel, or Wark-
angel. This was thought by Gesner to be the
corruption of the word Wurchangel, which, rendered
literally, signifies a sufibcating angel. The Ger-

THE SHKIKE. 219

mans also call it by a word which we may render
Ninekillcr, because, say they, it kills nine birds
every day. Another old English name is Matta-
gesse ; and an old French writer calls it Falconellc^
From an old quatrain in Portraits d' Oyseaux, it
seems to have been considered a useful bird in
France, on account of its destructive warfare
against mice, rats, and other animals. The name
of the genus, Lanius, was given by Gesner, from
lanio, to cut or tear in pieces.

The shrike was formerly much used by falconers,
and an extract from the Book of Falconrie, or
Hawkinge, published in 1611, and also from Sir
John Sebright, will show why it received the
specific name of excuhitor, or sentinel, which
Linn je us applied to it — the warder butcher-bird,
as another writer on hawking calls it. *' Her
feeding," says Turbervile of this shrike, " is U]X)n
rattes, squirrells, and lisards ; and sometime upon
certaine birds, she doth use to prey, whom she
doth entrappe and deceive by flight, for this is her
devise. She will stand at pearch upon some tree
or poste, and there make an exceeding lamentable
cry and exclamation, such as birdes are wonte to
doe being wronged, or in hazarde of mischief, and

220 OUE NATIVE SONGSTERS.

all to make other fowles believe and thinke she is
very much distressed, and stands needfiille of ayde ;
whereupon, the credulous sellie birdes do flock to-
gether, presently at her call and voice, at what time
if any happen to approach neare her, she, out of hand,
ceazeth on them, and devoureth them, (ungrateful
subtile fowle !) in requital of their simplicity and
pains. These hawkes are of no account with us,
but poor simple fellowes and peasants sometimes
doe make them to the fiste, and being reclaimed
after their unskilful manners, doe have them
hooded, as falconers doe their other kinds of
hawkes, whom they make to greater purposes."

Sir John Sebright says that the butcher-bird is
tied on the ground, near the tent of the falconer,
while the latter employs himself in some sedentary
occupation, relying on his vigilance to apprise him
of the approach of a hawk. This the bird never
fails to do, by screaming loudly, when the hawk is
seen at a distance.

The great shrike is neither a resident nor a
regular visitor in our island, only coming occa-
sionally to this country from some portion of the
European continent, over a gi'eat part of which it
is pretty generally diffused. The season at which

THE EED-BACKED SHRIKE. 221

this bird visits Eritain is usually between the
autumn and the spring, and several counties are
named as those in which it has been seen, and in
some districts of which it is often common, as
Surrey, Sussex, Wiltshire, Dorsetshire, Devon-
shire, Worcestershire, Cheshire, Cambridgeshire,
Norfolk, Yorkshire, Cumberland, Northumberland
and Durliam. It is supposed that the birds of this
species which reach us, were in the course of
migration to other lands, and being driven by
adverse winds on our coast, are content to resort
awhile to our fir plantations, or groves, or thickets.
It is a common bird in France, remaining in the
woods of that country all the summer, and residing
on the open plains during the winter season. This
large bold bird is about ten inches in length. It
builds its nest in a tree at a great height from the
ground, making it of grasses, moss and wool, lined
with hair. The eggs are of a greyish white
colour, spotted with brown and ash colour. The
croaldng, clamorous anxiety of this shrike during
incubation, often betrays the place of its nest.

A writer in the Magazine of Natural History
remarks, that a peculiar odour proceeds from the
great shrike, after death, not unlike that which

222 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

arises from the explosion of gunpowder. He
observes that he has found the same peculiarity in
the nuthatch.

Though the great shrike, from its comparative
unfrequency in our woods, contributes little to
their minstrelsy, yet a smaller species, the Flusher
or Red-backed Shrike* {Lanius coUurio),is a regular
visitant to our island, and a common bird in several
parts of it ; while as a singer it deserves great
praise. It may often be seen and heard in the
neighbourhood of London, and is frequent in Kent,
Surrey, Sussex, Wiltshire, Gloucestershire, and
some other counties haunting the borders of woods,
or dwelling among the furze, broom, or brambles
of our open downs. Like its congener, it is a true
butcher-bird, though it is inferior in size and
power to the great shrike. It has been known to
kill birds as large as a finch, and is much feared

* The Red-backed Shrike is seven inches and a half in length.
Head, neck, and rump grey ; back chestnut-red ; wing-feathers
black, edged with red ; tail-feathers white at the base, black
towards the extremities, but tipped with white ; a band of black
along each cheek ; under parts pale red ; beak and feet black.
The female has the upper parts dull reddish-brown ; the under
parts greyish-white, barred with minute dai'ker lines ; the black
stripe on the cheek is absent.

THE RED-BACKED SHEIKE. 223

by small birds in general. The may-bug which
floats in the air of the summer evening, dashing in
our faces as we walk over the green meadows, is a
favourite food of this species ; and the merry song
which the gi'asshopper sings among the herbage,
proves only to be its own death warning, if this
bird is nigh. It pounces down upon the insect,
and flying off with it in its mouth, seeks some
hawthorn, or prickly furze, or bramble bush, on
which to hang it. During the time when its
young are clamorous for food, several of these
insects may be seen hanging thus impaled, and
ready to be fetched away by the parent birds, as
the nestlings may require them. Young birds
are fiercely attacked, and naturalists have been
atti'acted to a spot where the butcher-bird is to be
seen, by the shrill cries of alarm uttered by some
smaller birds ; and on reaching the place have seen
a youngling carried off in its beak to a neighbouring
tree, where it was soon ingeniously transfixed, by
the neck, to a thorn.

This shrike, like many of our smaller migratory
birds, passes its winter in Africa ; and comes to
us in pairs, in April or May, leaving this land in
September. It makes its nest in a high part of a

224 OUR js'atrt: songsters.

thick hedge or bush. Its form is like that of a
large cup, and the materials employed are the
coarse stalks of plants, moss and fibrous roots;
while the lining consists of a few hairs, and some fine
grasses. The eggs are four or five in number, pale
bluish white, spotted with brown and ash colour.

The flusher sings its song in a continuous
strain, from the top of a bush, or on the bough of
a tree near its nest. It well imitates the notes of
other birds, mixing with its own some which it
bon'ows from the nightingale, goldfinch, or other
singers. In captivity, Bechstein says, it learns
quickly to whistle airs, but forgets them with
the same facility in order to learn new ones. He
says tliat it is a most lively bird, and that if taken
out of a cage, it will soon clear the room of flies.
It catches them while on the wing, and if a thorny
branch is given it, it will impale all the insects,
making at the same time the most droll and singular
movements. One, which he had in confinement, re-
fused the most tempting food, and on the fourth day
its owner, thinking it too weak to injure the other
birds, allowed it the liberty of flying about the room.
An unfortunate hedge-sparrow became, however, its
immediate victim, and after being put back again

THE WOOD-CHAT. 225

into the cage, it ate all the food with which it
was supplied, as if now its propensity had been
satisfied.

The power of imitating the notes of other birds
is shared by another species of this family, the
Wood-chat* {Lanius rutilus). Its own tones are
not sweet, but it will learn to sing so like a
nightingale or linnet, as to deserve a passing-
mention among our singing birds. It can, however,
be scarcely called a British species, being but
occasionally seen in our island, though common in
France, Germany, and Italy. It is a larger bird
than the flusher, and much resembles it in its
habits.

* The Wood-chat is seven inches and a half in length. Head
and neck chestnut; forehead, cheeks, and ear-coverts black ;
back black; rump grey; wings and tail black, marked with
white; under parts white.

CHAPTER \1II.

LARKS — PiriTS — BUNTINGS SPARROWS.

As we may sec in the flowers and trees witli
which our green earth is adorned, tliat woodland,
rock, and river have plants of their own, so, too, all
the varied spots of our landscape have birds which
haunt them especially. The streamlet runs along
the grass, and the wagtails and the dipper are
there to sing to its tune. The marsh is lonely,
but it has its flowers and its birds too; and the
chorus sung among the stiff sedges, or tlie bowing
reeds, is so sweet that we gladly seek some little
mound of gi*ass on which we may sit and listen.
On the stone or fm*ze-clad heath, a full flow of
song salutes the morning sunshine ; and a loud
hymn of thanksgiving is heard, by day or night,
among the woodlands, which should awaken our
souls to praise. The white clifl", which fringes
our shore, echoes not alone to the sound of winds
and waves, and screaming seagulls, but gives back
the singing of the shore lark, which makes its

^Pfi

m

THE SKY-LARK. 227

home near them. Some of the sweetest of our
singing birds come to our gardens and shrubberies,
or utter their strains about our paths and homes;
while some, like the sky-lark, are musicians of the
fields, and we have only to take our coui'se where
the gi'cen corn is gradually preparing for the food
of man, and there we shall find tones which we
should listen for in vain among the shadows of
gi'een boughs. He who made the earth and man
upon it, gave us not only the materials which our
skill might fashion into sources of physical comfort;
but he scattered there, too, the sights which should
delight the eye, and tones which should minister
to the spirit through the outward ear.

Winter is here, and the frosts and snows of
yesterday have left their diamonds on the leafless
sprays and the green blades, and thrown large white
patches over the field. In a few hours the sun
shall bid them all glide away from the land, for
the air is clear, and the sky is blue, and the Lark*

* The Sky -lark is seven inches and a quarter in length. Head
crested ; general plumage brown, dark in the centre, and pale at
the edges ; outer tail-feather white ; the next streaked with white ;
throat and breast pale browTi spotted with dark brown ; under
pai-ts dull white ; beak and feet brown ; hind claw very long and
nearly straight.

228 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

[Alauda arvensis) is singing at heaven's gate so
rejoicingly^ that we feel that there can be few
sounds of earth

"■ More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear."

AVe watch the bird as it ascends almost per-
pendicularly in its direction, but by sudden starts
and a somewhat curve-like motion. Higher and
higher it rises, and

" Singing ever soars, and soaring ever sings ;"

soon it is a tiny speck in the blue sky, but its
voice reaches us yet, in one clear ioud carol ; and
now the bird is lost to our sight in the blue clouds,
Init the strain is heard still. Those who hear the
lark singing thus high in the air, know that it
gives a promise of some hours of fine weather ; for,
like many of our old proverbs, that which is in
common use in country places, in some measure is
founded on correct observation —

" When the lark is mounted high,

He drives the clouds out from the sky."

These are but rough rhymes, yet it is true that
the bird will not sing during rain, nor mount far
in the air when the sky is at all overcast. But

THE SKY-LAKK. 229

the lark, though loving the sky well, has ties to
earth; and now it descends slowly in a slanting
line, till it is about twelve feet from the land;
when darting onward like an arrow from a bow,
and gradually lessening the power of the song, it
reaches the earth in silence.

That hymn of joy is heard not only as early as
February, but it is sung during nearly eight
months of the year. It is one of the first which
reaches the ear of the husbandman, when he goes
forth to his daily labour. That matin hymn is
silenced at noonday; but when the afternoon is
come with its coolness, or evening with its length-
ened shadows, the lark again chants forth its
melody. In ancient Greece, the afternoon song
was the signal for the reaper to recommence the
work which had been intermitted during the heat
of noon. Wherever the lark is plentiful, it is sure
to be heard at this time of the day, over the corn-
field or other cultivated land. To rise with the
lark, as well as to lie down with the lamb, has
long been a rustic precept in our country ; and by
two o'clock in the summer morning, our lark has
arisen to salute the dawn, though even then the
redbreast may have sung its song before it.

Shakspeare, like many other poets, loved the

230 OUR NATRT SONGSTERS.

song wliicli gave " sweet tidings of the sun's
uprise," and Trelcomed as we do tlie " herald of
the mom." Shelley's beautiful comparisons of
this bird are too well known to be quoted, and
Wordsworth has a poem to the lark which contains
some beautiful stanzas.

" Chanter by heaven attracted, whom no bars
To daylight known, deter from that pursuit,
'Tis well that some sage instinct, when the star.s
Come forth at evening, keeps thee still and mute ;
For not an eyelid could to sleep incline,
Wert thou among them singing as they shine ! "

A toucliing little incident is recorded by Lock-
liart as having occun*ed during the funeral of liis
wife, the daughter of Sir Walter Scott. Just as
the remains of the departed were committed to the
tomb, and as the clergyman was reading the
solemn service, a lark sang sweetly and loudly in
the sky above the mourners and tlic mourned.
Lockhart's lines which relate this scene are very
beautiful :

" 0 thou light-loving and melodious bird,
At every sad and solemn fall
Of mine o^vn voice, each interval
In the soul-elevating prayer, I heard
Thy quivering descant full and clear-
Discord not inharmonious to the ear !

THE SKY-LARK. 231

" We laid her there, the Minstrel's darling child ;

Seem'd it then meet that, borne away

From the close city's dubious day,
Her dirge should be thy native woodnote wild ?
Nursed upon nature's lap, her sleep
Should be where birds may sing, and dewy flowrets weep?"

As the free lark rises in the air, we wonder
alike at its strength of wing and power of vision.
It is near to the sun, and among those clouds
which give so dazzling a reflected light, that the
human eye cannot rest for a moment upon them.
And yet from that height it can descend to the
spot where its nest lies, or pounce on the insect
which it needs for its food. Buffon has said of
the hawk, that it can see from on high a lark upon
a clod of earth at twenty times the distance at
wliich man or horse can perceive it. We know
tliat the scattered crumbs around our dwellings
are at once espied by the sparrow on the house-
top, and the redbreasts on the bough ; nor is the
lark less gifted than either. Sight, indeed, is
extremely perfect in birds. Whether that faculty
of discerning equally well the near or distant
object, is owing to some power which they possess
of changing the convexity of the eye, we know

232 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

not ; but we know that without tliis faculty the
bird must either lose its chance of finding food, or,
on the other hand, be utterly unfitted to direct its
wing over wood, and sea, and mountain, as it now
does. The swallow could not skim through the
air without instant danger of being dashed against
some hard object, could it not discern this from a
distance, and be thus enabled to moderate its rapid
flight. The carrier-pigeon could not traverse
vast extent of countries, did it not discover, from
on high, the landmarks which guided its course ;
and neither, without great power of vision, could
our lark come straight to its home from its sojourn
in the clouds. One marked peculiarity in the
eye of birds enables us to understand how the
lark can endm'c the dazzling light of the sun.
Besides the two eyelids, common to most animals,
birds have a membrane which serves as a tliird.
This thin membrane, when not in use, is folded in
the inner angle of the eye ; but can be spread all
over the orb at the will of the bird, which is thus
enabled to gaze, as through a delicate gauze veil,
into a shaded light. This little curtain does not
move up or down like our eyelids, but is spread

THE SKY-LARK. 233

vertically over it. Besides this, the lark, in com-
mon with all birds save the owls, can see a single
object with one eye, while the situation of the eyes
at the side of the head gives them the view of a
much wider space than is enjoyed by those animals
whose eyes are situated in front of the head.

The nest of the sky-lark is placed on the ground,
and shielded by some clod of earth or clump of
folia o-e. It is made of dried grasses, and the eggs,
which are four or five in number, are of a greyish
white, tinged w4th green. The nestlings when
fledged, do not, like most young birds, keep
together in a little party, but roam singly over the
field ; and one would wonder how the parent birds
contrive to help them to their food, till they can
fully provide for their own needs. Larks, though
not pugnacious birds, are not social in their habits,
and it is not often that several nests are placed in
the same field, or that the birds associate at this
season in companies, for they mostly run about in
pairs. Later in the year, however, when winter
is approaching, these birds collect in large parties,
and being joined by arrivals from the northern
regions, they leave the open grounds, and find
more sheltered spots, going in incredible numbers

234 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

to turnip and wheat fields, and to fallow lands.
They are at this season very fat, and many are
shot, or taken by the fowler for food. Tlie larks'
of Dunstable are considered of very superior
flavour, and they are annually snared in that
neiglibourhood, and sent to the London markets.
In most countries of Europe, larks are prized as
delicacies ; and Montbelliard says that in France
a hundred dozen or more are sometimes taken at
once. These bu*ds arc very plentiful in Germany,
and are there subject to an excise, wliich Keysler
says produces six thousand dollars yearly to Leipsic.
The duty at Leipsic is about two and a half
sterling for every sixty birds; and it is sometimes
known to produce twelve thousand crowns. The
fields of tliat neighbourhood are sometimes literally
covered with these birds, from ^licliaelmas till the
end of November. On the Continent this fowling
for larks is considered a good country sport, and
the French nobility formerly practised it ; but in
England it is left to the bird-catcher. In France,
during very severe weather, the larks have been
known to come in parties to villages, and even to
take refuge in houses, and having been totally
exhausted by want of food, have been easily killed

THE SKY-LARK. 235

in numbers by poles. Owing to tlie improvident
destruction of so many of these birds for the table,
sky-larks are much less numerous in that country
than they once were.

When winter is over, the large companies of
larks arc separated, and they go forth in pairs to
select a yjlace for the nest. This is usually built
by the end of April, or beginning of May. The
first brood is ready for flight by the end of June,
and the second is fledged by August.

The lark will sing and become familiar in cap*
tivity, and will live thus caged for nine or ten
years; though surely, when it looks up through its
prison bars to that broad blue expanse into which
its instinct directs it to soar, regrets and longings
must come to the heart of the bird, which render
its green cage with its bright white ceiling hateful
to it, and the daisied turf at its feet little better
than a mockery.

The sky-lark is well known to be much attached
to its young. The male bird, during the time
that his companion is sitting, is changed from
a timid to a bold creature; and though, under
ordinary circumstances, easily driven from any
spot, will now fight with much determination the

236 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

bird which may intrude on the domestic privacy ;
while the hen bird has been known to place her-
self before the fowler, in order to call his attention
from the nest. Mr. Jesse, in his " Gleanings,"
mentions an anecdote illustrative of this affec-
tion, which was related to him by a clergyman
in Sussex. This gentleman " was riding gently
towards Dell Quay, in Chichester Harbour, with
two friends, where, having passed the toll-bar,
the road is of good elevation, and separated by
a short quick-set hedge, on each side, from the
fields, over whicli tliere was a commanding view.
When in this situation their attention was attracted
by a shrieking cry, and they discovered a pair of
sky-larks rising out of the stubble, and crossing
the road before them at a slow rate, one of them
having a young bird in its claws, which was
dropped in the opposite field at a height of about
thirty feet from the ground, and killed by the fall.
On taking it up, it appeared to have been hatched
about eight or nine days. The affectionate parent
was endeavouring to convey its young ones to
a place of safety, but its strength failed in tlie
attempt." So careful is the sky-lark of revealing
the place of its nest, that when the eggs or young

THE SKY-LAEK. 237

are there, it never alights near it, but flies along
the surface of the ground;^ and stops at some dis-
tance from the dwelling.

The length of the full-grown male skj-lark is
seven inches and a quarter; and the female bird
is rather smaller, and darker in colour. It is
universally diffused over the British Islands, large
numbers, during severe winters, leaving the north-
ern parts of the kingdom to come into the some-
what milder climate of the southern counties.
In Ireland the lark is very much valued as a caged
bird. Our sky-lark, too, sings its cheerful strains
over the mountains of that land, although in
Britain it evidently prefers the green fields and
plains. There is a wild and gloomy valley, the
Vale of Glendalough, which is said never to be
cheered by the singing of the lark; because, in
olden times, when the Seven Churches were being-
reared, the loud matin songs of the sky-lark
awoke the wearied masons when they needed rest.
St. Kevin miraculously commanded their silence,
and never again has the sweet laverock come with
the daisy, and the primrose, to gladden the green-
sward and the silence of that lonely spot. Around
the hilly pastures of Belfast, the lark sings long

238 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

and loud, rising higher and higher from its lowly
home in the herbage, like the heart of the Chris-
tian, which, if constrained to dwell awhile on
earth, can at times lift itself to heaven.

The French call the sky-lark, Alouette de
champs ; the Italians, Lodola canter ina, and Lo-
dola di monta/jno; and it is the Feld Lerche of the
Germans. It is very general in all the countries
of Europe.

A very sweet singer is the Wood-lark,* ( xiJaiuh
arborea,) but though its flute-like notes are as
rich and sweet as those of the sky-lark, they are
liardly so varied and never so loud. It is even
an earlier singer than that bird, and is associated
in our minds with the cold wintry days. At a
season when the eye wanders in vain in search of
a green bough, save where it rests on, a wild holly
or a garden evergreen, and when the meadow-
grass has but few daisies among it; at a time
when winds sweep through the desolate woods,
this bird is singing his long full song for hours
together; and when joined by several of its com-

* The Wood-lark is six inches in length. The plumage re-
sembles that of the sky-lark, but it may be distinguished by a
pale streak above each eye.

THE WOOD-LAKK. 239

panions, making the otherwise still landscape
resound with melody. Who that goes into the
com land, bordered hy woods, in January, does
not welcome there the gentle song of the robin,
and the richer strain of the wood-lark, mingled as
they are with the bleak winds which rush among
the boughs, and scatter the brown leaves over the
pathway, in wild confusion? Who has not gone
away to his fire-side, taking with him, from tlie
woods, a pleasant cheerful thought, and a memory
of gladness and joy, when he had little hoped for
one sound of music, save that of the wind ? How
strong the bird seems as it wheels its way, in
large circles, singing high in air, sometimes for an
hour together, and never pausing to rest either
its wing or voice ! This wheeled mode of flight at
once distinguishes it from the sky-lark, which
rises in the air almost perpendicularly, and with
a spiral movement. Om' wood-lark, too, has the
power of remaining longer on the wing, and though
its song reaches us chiefly from a great elevation,
so that we can scarcely discern its expanded wings
and tail, yet it sometimes perches on the top of
a high tree, or lower down among the boughs,
and gives us from them as sweet a strain.

240 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

In tlie spring we do not hear it so clearly, for
amid the general chorus of birds, the delicate song
is scarcely remarkable; but in the silence of the
night, when night itself hardly brings coolness to
the air, the sweet carol of the wood-lark on liigh
may be listened to with delight ; and many think
it little inferior to that of the nightingale. Pity
it is, that this sweet wild song should ever be ex-
changed for the tones uttered in captivity; yet
tlie wood-lark is sometimes caged. AVhen wild, it
sings usually from March to July, though, as has
been before said, it is occasionally to be heard, not
only in the autumnal months, but even in winter.
When kept in-doors, however, it sings regularly
from February to August; and the female, as is
the case with other larks, sings also, though hers
is a shorter strain. '* These birds," says Bechstein,
"appear to be subject to caprice. I have seen
some which would never sing in a room, or in the
presence of an auditor. These perverse birds
must be placed in a long cage, outside the window.
I have remarked that these obstinate birds are
the best singers. Their abrupt step, and various
frolics, in which they raise the feathei's of the
head and neck, arc very amusing."

THE WOOD-LARK. 241

. Woodweete is an old name for the wood-lark ;
and the woodwele of our old English writers is
also thought to signify this bird, though some
refer it to the thrush. In the old ballad of Kobin
Hood, we have —

" The woodwele sang, and would not cease,
Sitting upon the spray,
So loud, he waken'd Robin Hood,
In the green-wood where he lay."

The night-song of the bird is plaintive in its
tones, and a very melancholy little note, sounding
out softly the syllable " lu, lu, lu, lu," is also uttered
by the wood-lark ; hence Cuvier calls the bird the
lulu. As winter approaches, these larks associate
in small flocks, of ten or twelve in number, and
ramble over the fields for food, seeking there some
scattered gi-ain, or flower-seed, or the insects and
worms which lie hid among the clods and herbage.
The wood-lark is less general than the sky-lark,
though not uncommon in the southern and mid-
land counties, and the cultivated fields bordered
by woods or trees. In the northern countries of
Europe it is migratory, going southwards in win-
ter. It is much like the sky-lark, but smaller,
and may be distinguished from it by its shorter
K

242 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

tail, and by a pale sti'ipe passing over", each eye.
It builds early in April, and places its nest in
gome field under the covert of a tuft of furze or
bramble, or a clump of herbage. The nest is
composed of dried grasses, and lined with finer
species ; the eggs are of pale brown or grey,
dashed with brown.

Both this bird and the sky-lark have a habit of
rolling themselves in the dust, which appears to
be a mode of cleansing their plumage from any-
thing which adheres to it, and which lias been
compared to the well-known practice of tlie Arabs
of the desert, wlio, when they are far from tlie
water necessary for their stated ablutions, rub
themselves with fine sand instead. The caged
larks often rub their breasts against the dry sides
of the turf which is placed in the cage.

The pipits, or tit-larks, are very similar to the
larks, both in appearance and habits ; and, like
them, are delightful singers. The most common,
and the smallest of the genus, is the Meadow ('
Pipit* {Anthus pratensis), which, however, is not

* The Meadow Pipit is six inches in length. Upper parts
brown, the feathers having dark centres and pale edges ; outmost
tail-feather white; under parts bro wnish- white ; the breast thickly

THE MEADOW PIPIT. 243

peculiar to our grassy lands and marshes, but in-
habits commons, mountains, rocky sea-shores,
bleak uplands, and other wide wastes. In the
lake counties, where this pipit frequents the heath-
clad moors, it is commonly called the Ling-
bird, from the ling which grows tliere. In the
Okney Isles it is known by the name of Grey
Teeting ; and in Scotland, where it is as frequent
as in England, it has the name of Moss Cheeper ;
for tlierc, as in other countries, where moors
abound, it revels among the green mosses which
so often chister in these spots. These are the
haunts wliich in summer-time the bird chooses for
its nest, and from which its joyous song is poured
forth in tlic air. Here we may see the pipit
gradually rising, with quivering wing, till it is
poised at a great height ; and then begins that
song, so soft, so musical, that we listen only to
regret that the strain is finished, and that the ties
of earth again draw the singer downward. Down
it comes, with wings and tail outspread and
moti(^nless, and, like the sky-lark, in a slanting
direction; and when on the ground, runs along over

spotted with brown ; beak and feet brown ; hind claw as long as
the toe.

244 OUR NATIVE SONGSTEKS.

it, picking up the insects ■s\4th gi'eat quickness.
But autumn arrives, and the bird, which has sung
its song by the grassy-bordered stream, or on the
most cold and barren liills, retreats to more shel-
tered meadows, or to turnip-fields, or similar
places ; great numbers congi'egating there, and
becoming, after the autumnal months, so much
brighter and more deeply coloured, that this
pipit has often, at this season, been mistaken for
another species.

Besides the mode of flight, whose quivering
motion has been described, the pipit, when not
singing, has another which consists of successive
jerks, at no very great height from the gi-ound ;
and it sometimes sings, too, while hovering over
its nest, and occasionally when perched on a
stone. Its nest is made of tlie dried stems of
grasses, or other plants, and lined with hair.
It is hidden on the gi'ound, under a clump of
leaves or coarse gi'ass, or beneath the boughs of
a low bush ; and the ])ale-brown eggs are thickly
speckled with dark purplish brown. The pipit
is called P?}??*, in French ; the Germans call it
Piep ; and the Danes, Pibe. It is one of the
commonest of our native songsters, and bird-

THE TREE PIPIT. 245

fanciers prize its song when in captivity, and call
it the pipit-lark.

Though the meadow-pipit resides all the year
in our land, the Tree Pipit* (Anthus arhoreus) only
finds here its summer home, coming to us in
April, and quitting us late in September; the
male birds preceding the female, and as soon as
they an-ive, doing their best to contribute to the
melody of spring. This is the finest singer of the
whole genus, beginning its song with a little
low twitter, which rises by degrees, and is suc-
ceeded by a sweet warble. The song is some-
times sung by the bird on a tree, from " the
topmost twig which looks up at the sky ; " but
more frequently it is uttered in the air, and the
bird, when it ceases, comes sailing down slowly to
the bough whence it took its flight.

The haunt of the tree pipit is the border of the
woodland, or the plantation or orchard, or the
hedgerow which skirts the meadow or green lane,
and although not usually numerous, yet it is very

* The Tree Pipit is six inches and a half in length. The
plumage closely resembles that of the meadow pipit, but the
spots on the breast are fewer, and the white of the outmost tail-
feather is less extensive and less pure ; the hind claw is shorter
than the toe.

246 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

generally diffused tlirougliout most of the cul-
tivated districts of England, and in manj places,
as in some neighbourhoods of London, is very
plentiful. In colour it resembles the meadow-
pipit, but the greater length of claw, and the
less slender beak, are characteristics of the tree
species. Tliat excellent observer of birds, Mr.
Bljth, remarks, too, some other peculiarities. He
says that it is more " equally poised on the centre
of gravity, whence also its attitudes are very differ-
ent, and its movements are far more deliberate, than
those of its congeners. The mode of progression is
indeed quite different, thougli ambulatory in both
instances; the slow gait of the tree pipit con-
trasting strongly with the nimbler run of all the
others ; which latter is again very unlike the
quick step of the larks. In captivity it is an
extremely healthy bird, and moults very freely ;
thrives upon almost any sort of food, and delights
to bathe and wash itself in a pan of water. The
other pipits, however, and also the wagtails, are
very difficult to maintain in a captive state ; they
refuse to wash themselves, and suffer very much
at the moulting period, both in spring and autumn.
I never knew one, or a wagtail, to change its

/

&-im

THE ROCK PIPIT. 247

plumage well in the cage. All the latter, too, are
very snappish in confinement towards other birds,
a trait of character which is not observable in the
tree pipit." Our bird is the tit-lark of the London
birdcatchers, and in Germany it is frequently
caught in October in great numbers, by nets,
in the oat-fields, where it then congregates in
flocks.

The tree pipit has two broods in the season.
Tt makes a nest of grasses and other stems,
mingled with moss and hair, which it hides under
a bush or a tuft of foliage. Four or five eggs may
be found in it, of a gi'eyish-white colour, dashed
with brown. Mr. Blyth says that this bird is re-
markable for the loose hold of its feathers, which,
if the bird is handled, come out more easily than
tliose of any other.

Another species, the Hock Pipit* [Anthus petro-
sus), is a resident bird, and a very frequent one,
and being abundant only on the rocky shores of
our island, is often called the sea-lark or rock-

* The Rock Pipit is six inches and three quarters in length.
It is scarcely to be distinguished from the two preceding species,
except by the superiority of size, and by the greater length and
curvature of the hind claw ; the breast, however, is rather clouded
than spotted with brown.

248 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

lark, while the birdcatchers call it the mud-
lark, and it is sometimes termed the dusky-lark.
It is a very common bird on the southern shores of
England, as well as in several parts of Scotland
and Wales, and is well known to most who
live on our shores. Tt is amusing to watch the
motions of this little bird as it nuis along the sandy
margin, picking up the shell-fish from the mass
of sea-weed, and making a merry note as it finds
one there, or lying loose on tlie sand. It seems
the most sprightly of birds, and has a joy in its very
motion ; and when the waters are falling gently
and musically upon the rocky coast, the sweet
song whicli it suigs to them has a peculiar charm.
It is not among those old rugged cliffs which bend
over the sea that we look for song. — the liarsh
notes of the sea-birds, though in unison with the
wild solitudes, have little of melody. But when
our rock pipit pours forth its sweet low tones, the
notes are so like those which we are accustomed
to hear among green fields and shady woods, that
the thoughts involuntarily turn to those secluded
inland spots, which to those whose early days
were spent in the country, seem lovelier than the
sandy or rock-bound coast. It is almost the only

THE ROCK PIPIT. 249

singing bird, whose voice we hear there, and so
adapted is the seashore to its habits and necessities,
that not even the rigorous cold of winter di'ives it
inland; though now and then, dui'ing autumn, a
few of these birds go to the heaths, which to them
must bear some resemblance to the downs of the
coast. It may be seen, too, running over the grass
of the salt marshes, and picking up the worms
and salt-water insects, which lie hid in the pools
and soft earth tliere ; but it never congregates in
flocks. In its mode of flight, its call, and song-
notes, it is very similar to the meadow pipit,
which, as well as itself, loves the rocky shore,
and sometimes sings there its gentle songs.

The rocks near the shore are often very beautiful
when we are near enough to see the low grasses
and flowers which are peculiar to them. It is
among their crevices that our rock pipit builds its
nest, gathering thence for the little structure the
dried grasses and seaweeds of which it is composed,
and carolling near those crevices its early morning
song. The nest is lined with fine grass or hair,
and the eggs are of a pale yello^vish-grey, spotted
and mottled witli reddish-brown. If this pipit
builds on the marsh its nest is placed on the ground.

250 OUR NAim: SO^'GSTEIlS.

The Great Pipit, or Richard's Pipit [Anthis
Richardi,) though claiming, from its occasional
visits, and its sweet song, a short notice, can hardly
be called a British bird. It is a rare straggler to
the south of England. It is much like the meadow
species in manners and habits, though a larger
bird, and its summer and winter changes of
plumage precisely similar. It is found in the
warmer countries of Europe, but is truly a native
of Africa.

Before passing onwards tlie Buntings require
-some mention, for although they are no great
singers, they contribute in some small degi'ee to
the pleasant sounds of nature. These birds are
distinguished from most of our small birds by a
knob on the upper part of the bill, which they use
as an anvil, on which to break nuts, grain, or other
seeds. These and insects constitute their food.

Everybody knows the common Yellow Bunting,
or Yellow Ammer* [Emheriza citn'tiella), whose
bright yellow plumage is to be seen ever}^where

* The Yellow Ammer is seven inches in length. Head and
neck bright yellow, spotted with black; upper parts reddish-
brown, spotted with yellow ; wings and tail dusky black, edged
with yellow ; whole under parts bright yellow, spotted on the
breast with reddish-brown ; beak bluish-grey ; feet pale broAvn.

il

THE YELLOW BUNTING. 251

on our hedges, and whose note, somewhat liarsh as
it is, is a familiar sound to all used to the country.
Yet one whose ear was well attuned to all the
melodies of nature, could find pleasure in listening
to its song, and find in it a music too. Thus
Graham speaks of it —

" I even love the Yellow Hammer's song.
When earliest buds begin to bulge, his note
Simple, reiterated oft, is heard
On leafless brier, or half-grown hedgerow tree ;
Nor does he cease his note till autumn's leaves
Fall fluttering round his golden head so bright.
Fair plumaged bird ! cursed by the causeless hate
Of every schoolboy, still by me thy lot
Was pitied ! Never did I tear thy nest :
I loved thee, pretty bird ! for 'twas thy nest
Which first, unheli)'d by older eyes, I found.
The verj' spot I think I now behold !
Forth from my low-roofd home I wander'd blythe,
Down to thy side, sweet Cart, where 'cross the stream
A range of stones, below a shallow ford,
Stood in the place of iron-spanning arch ;
Up from that ford a little bank there was,
With alder-copse and willow overgi'own,
Nor worn away by mining winter floods ;
There at a bramble root, sunk in the grass.
The hidden prize, of wither'd field straws form'd,
Well lined with many a coil of hair and moss.
And in it laid five red-vein'd spheres I found;
The Syracusan's voice did not exclaim
The grand Eureka with more rapturous joy,
Thau at that moment flutter'd round my heart"

252 OUH NATIVE SONGSTERS.

As might be supposed of so common a bird, it
has many rustic names. In countr}' places it is
known as the Yoit, Yellow Yoldrin, Yellow
Yowley, and Yellow Yeldrick ; and in Cambridge-
shire the author heard it called the ^\Titing lark,
from the tracings on its Q^(;^, which are fancied to
resemble manuscript. Yarrell makes the following
remarks on the spelling of the word : " I have ven-
tured to restore to this bird, what I believe to
have been its first English name, Yellow Ammer,
althougli it appears to have been printed Yellow
Ham, and Yellow Hammer, from the days of Dr.
William Turner and Merrett, to the present time.
The word Ammer is a well-known ( Jerman term
for Bunting in very common use : thus Bechstein
employs the names Scltnee-amuier, (rrnii-anuner,
Rohr-ammer^ Garten-ammer^ for our Snow Bunt-
ing, Com Bunting, Reed Bunting, Ortolan, or
Garden Bunting, and Yellow Bunting. Prefixing
the letter II to the word appears to be unnecessary
and even erroneous, as suggesting a notion which
has no reference to any kno^vn habit or quality in
the bird." The Germans call our bird also Gold-
ammer, Ammering, and Gold-ammering, and it is
the Goldspink and Groning of the Swedes. The

THE YELLOW BUNTING. 253

well-known summer song of tliis bird rings out
from every wayside, consisting of one note re-
peated five or six times, and two others, the last
much lengthened. Some little variation occurs in
this strain, and Mr. Main remarks that the cow-
boys find in the yellow ammer's song the follow-
ing words, " A lit-tle bit of bread, but no cheese."
White of Selbome remarked of the bunting that
it persists in singing after Midsummer ^vith more
steadiness than any other bird.

The nest of this yellow ammer, well made of
moss, roots, and hair, is usually placed in the grass-
covered bank of a ditch or stream, or under a
bush on the gi'ound. The eggs are of a pale
purplish white, marked with dark reddish brown.
The bird is a favourite delicacy in Italy, and
is caught and fattened for the table with the
ortolan. One of the Italian names for another
species, the green-headed bunting, is Hortolano,
and this species is also sometimes called the
English ortolan.

In winter the yellow buntings assemble in
flocks witli several of the finch tribe, and hunt in
the fann-yards for grain, seeds, or insects. It is
common in every part of our country.

254 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

The common or Corn Bunting [Emheriza milia-
ria), which remains also witli us throughout the
year, and is a very common bird, lias still fewer pre-
tensions to musical powers than the yellow ammer ;
but dui-ing spring and summer its liarsh notes
often reacli our ear as they are uttered when pcrclied
on the top of tlie liedge, or on a low tree, or while
flyhig from bough to bough. It is sometimes
rather mir^chicvous, and has been known com-
pletely to strip a rick of barley of its thatching,
lea\'ing it quite bare of shelter. I'his it did
by deliberately pulling out straw by straw, to
search for any grain which might liave been left
in the car.

Very similar to the song of the corn bunting is
that of the Reed* or Black-headed species [Em-
heriza sclimnidus)^ which is sung for an hour or
two at a time, to cheer his companion as he sits
watching near her perched on some bush, where

* The Reed Bunting is six inches in length. Head, cheeks,
chin, throat, and brexst deep black ; back and wing-covert-^ black
with chestnut edges ; the colour separated from the black of the
head by a broad collar of white ; tail dark brown with reddish
edges, the two outer feathers on each side white ; sides of the
breast and under parts white ; beak and feet brown. In the
female the black pf the head and throat is wanting.

I

%

THE CTRL BUNTING. 255

his beautiful black head, contrasted with the white
collar, are very conspicuous. The song consists
but of two or three continually repeated notes,
which if listened to for any time become monoton-
ous and tedious ; but which, to the passer-by, who
hears but little, seem not altogether unmusical.
This bird inhabits the borders of ponds and
sides of lakes, dwelling among the green wil-
lows and the brown reeds, and hiding its nest
among the thick herbage at the side of the stream,
or at the base of some low bush at a short dis-
tance from the ground. It is made of moss and
water grasses, lined with hair and finer species of
grass. The eggs are four or five in number, of a
pale purplish brown, streaked with darker brown.
The food of this species consists of grain and
seeds, and of those insects which hover so nume-
rously about the waters, or their larvae. It is a
frequent bird on marshy lands.

The Cirl Bunting* [Emheriza cirlus) is peculiar
to the sea-coast, never going far inland. Its song

* The Cirl Bunting is six inches and a half in length. The
head is olive, streaked with black and yellow; the back chestnut;
wings and tail dusky black with reddish edges ; chin and throat
black bounded by a crescent of yellow ; under parts dull yellowish,
with a band of brown across the belly.

256 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

is very similar to tliat of the yellow ammor.
which it resembles also in mast of its habits,
though it does not, like that bird, come out boldly
to be looked at, but gets to the summit of some
high tree, especially an elm, and sings its song
somewhat more rapidly, and ^vithout the finishing
note given by the other bunting. It builds in
a furze or some low bush. It is very common
on some parts of our coast, but is a local rather
than a general species. Ix^ vf!^^:^ are of a dingy
white, tinged with blue, and streaked and speckled
with dark brown.

But though our common buntings are no great
minstrels, yet some which areoccasioiuil stragglers
to our land are more gifted with singing powers.
The Lapland Hunting (Plectrojyhnnea Lap2)onica),
which, though truly a native of the ^Vi'ctic shores,
sometimes strays hither, is described by Bech-
stein as having when in captivity a song much
like that of the linnet, while the female also
warbles a little. The Snow Bunting* {EmJxrizn

* The Snow Bunting is seven inches in length. In winter the
plumage is variegated with black, tawny, and white ; a largi'
part of the wing, and whole under parts white. In summer the
tawny colour disappears, the head, face, and breast are white,
and the back blacL

\

^.l,

THE SNOW BUNTING. 257

r/hciaNs), wliicli is only ca winter visitor witli us,
has a pleasing call-note to contribute to the music
of nature. It is an inhabitant of the northern
regions of Europe and America, visiting us in
large flocks in autumn, and leaving in April. This
species rarely perches on trees, but runs along the
ground, and feeds on gi'ass-seeds and other gTains.
When on the shores of the Polar Sea, its food in
spring consists chiefly of the buds of that Arctic
flower, the opposite-leaved saxifrage ; and in au-
tumn it has been observed to cat the shell-fish
which lie about the foliage of the water plants.

Although, in a little volume on singing birds,
the snow bunting can claim but a slight notice,
yet an anecdote, related by Captain Lyon, of this
bird, is too interesting to be left untold. When
describing an Esquimaux burying-place, he says :
" Near the large grave was a third pile of stones,
covering the body of a child, which was coiled up.
A snow bunting had found its way through the
loose stones which composed this little tomb ; and
its now forsaken neatly built nest was found
placed on the neck of the child. As the snow
bunting has all the domestic virtues of our Eng-
lish redbreast, it has always been considered by
S

258 OUU NATRT SONGSTERS.

US as the robin of these dreary wikls ; and its
lively chirp and fearless confidence have renderctl
it respected by the most hunip-y sportsman. I
could not, on this occasion, view its little nest,
placed on the breast of infancy, without wishing
that I possessed the power of poetically expressing
the feelings that it excited."

It is not easy to ascertain whether the sparrow

on the house-top, spoken of by David, be our

common bird, or wliethcr, as suggested on an

earlier page, the bird mentioned by Mr. Watertun

as the solitary sparrow or tlirush, is the species

intended. Our native species is frequent in

Palestine. In our own land the Sparrow* ^Pas.srr

domesticus) is to be met with every^vhere, — in

town and country ; but the little bird in great

cities, hopping about among the smoky chimneys,

is very different in appearance from tlie blithe

sparrow which chirps along the garden path, or

among the bright flowers of the country lane,

generally keeping near houses, and sharing any

* The House Sparrow is six inches in length. Crown of the
head dull grey ; the rest of the upper plumage chestnut bro\\-u,
with blackish centres ; chin and throat black ; under parts dull
greyish. The female wants the variegated tints of the plumage,
and the black of the throat.

♦

ffl^^

^1

THE SPARROW. 259

refuse wliicli may be tlirowu from their doors.
The country sparrow has a brighter plumage,
which always seems too in better order, and as if
more pains were bestowed in cleaning and trim-
ming it. Everywhere, however, its character is
the same, and it is among the boldest and most
obtrusive birds, and is perpetually squabbling
with its companions. The large thick head, short
bill, and lively eyes of the span'ow are often be-
fore us, and it has not the graceful arch look of
the redbreast, or its winning way of soliciting
confidence, but has a look of audacity, wliicli at
once marks it as an assuming little bird. It can-
not be called a singer in its wild state, but strange
to say that chirping sparrow is neitlier wanting in
voice nor ear. The Hon. Daines Barrington says,
" I took a common sparrow from the nest, when
it was fledged, and educated it under a linnet.
The bird, however, by accident, heard a gold-
finch also ; and his song was therefore a mixture
of the linnet and goldfinch." The spari'ow always
seems an intelligent little bird, and can accommo-
date itself to times and places exceedingly well ;
varying its tones, too, so as that we can very dis-
tinctly trace in its chirp sounds of joy, or fear, or

260 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

rage, or anger. Veiy often on a summer even-
ing, large nimil3ers of spaiTOWs assemble in the
trees, and keep up so long and loud a chorus of
chirpings, that one might think it was a party of
birds preparing for migi-ation. These spaiTOW
choruses may, however, be regarded as a prelude
to a following day of sunshine, and probably arise
from the happy feelings of the bird in the genial
atmosphere. When the bro^vn com is cutting
do^vn, then is the joyous season for the sparrows.
Away they fly in troops to tlie harvest iield, to
gather the gi-ain which may be scattered from the
full ears, and very meny they seem as they hop
about in search of it. Their assemblies in spring
are not so peaceful. Indeed they seem to be half
their time in a rage, and their incessant combats
at this season must have been remarked by all
who notice the actions of birds, several spar-
rows uniting to pursue some hapless offender,
till it drops down d«.*ad with fright, or from bodily
injury.

The span-ow is an early builder, and tlie ni'St,
though sometimes placed on the high branches
of fruit-trees in gardens near to houses, is more
often found under the eaves of tiles, or in holes or

TUE SPARROW. 261

crevices of walls near the dwellings of man. The
extreme voracity of the spaiTOws in devouring
fruits and vcgetahlcs and young flower-buds,— the
determination with which they pull up every
young radish, or the early sprouts of our mustard
and cress,— their devastation among the peas in
summer, which they will get at by opening
the pods ; these and similar misdemeanom'S render
them very obnoxious to the gardener. If, how-
ever, it were possible to exterminate the whole
race of sparrows, our gardens would, in all pro-
bability, be in a worse condition than now ; for they
consume, especially wdiile they have young ones, an
incredible number of soft-bodied caterpillars and
moths, which would, were they suffered to live, com-
mit greattir injury to vegetation than they.

Though some of the traits of the sparrow's dis-
position are certainly less pleasing than those of
otlier birds, yet many instances are recorded of
tlieir affection for their nestlings, which might win
our regard. Smellie relates a very remarkable
case of this. " When I was a boy," he says, '' I
carried off a nest of young spaiTOWs, about a mile
from my place of residence. After the nest was
completely moved, and while I was marching

262 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

home witli tliem in triumph, I perceived with some
degree of astonishment both the parents following
me, at some distance, and observing my motions
in perfect silence. A tli ought then struck me that
they might follow me home, and feed the young
according to their usual manner. On first enter-
ing the door, I held up the nest and made the
young ones utter their cry expressive of the desire
of food. 1 immediately put the nest of the young
in a wire cage, and placed it outside a window."
The author then relates that having concealed
himself, he saw the parent birds come in, with
their bills filled with small caterpillars, and that
after a little chattering the young birds were fed.
This was continually repeated till they were
fledged. The narrator then placed the strongest
of the young birds outside the cage, and no sooner
did the parents arrive, with their load of food,
than seeing one of their family thus emancipated,
they fluttered about, making most noisy manifes-
tations of joy, both with wing and voice ; until,
after a time, this tumult was followed by what
might seem a " calm and soothing conversation."
They evidently wished their young bird to fly,
while he, by a feeble cry, evinced his timidity.

THE TREE SP.VRROW. 263

Their solicitations were ui-ged incessantly, and
they flew again and again, from tlie cage, to a
neiglilK>uring chimney-pot, as if to show the pupil
how this miglit Le done. At last he took courage,
and reached the post in safety. Next day another
young bird was released, and again the same scene
followed, until all the foiu- young ones were freed
from captivity, and became tenants of air. But
never again did spaiTOw or nestling revisit that
cage. It had no pleasing associations to endear it,
and they had learned too well the worth of free-
dom, again to risk its loss.

The nest of the sparrow is made of straw, and
placed sometimes in trees, and often in ivy, or
under the eaves of houses.

The Tree SpaiTow* or ^lountaiu SpaiTOw [Pas-
ser montanus) has a little more ' pretension to be
called a song bird, than has the house species.
Mr. Blytli says that its notes are not altogether
despicable, being far superior to those of the
bramblc-iincli. Like the common species, he re-
marks, it has a great variety of chirrups ; one of

• The Tree Sparrow is distinguished from the house sparrow
by a brighter plumage, and by having the sides of the neck
handsomely striped and clouded with black and pure white.

264 OUIl NATIVE SONGSTERS. *

which is peculiarly musical and sweet, and may be
rendered " pee-eu-weep." Its proper song consists
of a number of these chirps, intermixed with some
pleasing notes, delivered in a continuous unbroken
strain, sometimes for many minutes together; very
loudly, and having a characteristic sparrow-like
tone throughout.

The tree sparrow is a much handsomer bird
than our familiar species, to which however it has
a general resemblance. Sometimes its feathers
are puffed out, so as to render it particularly like
its congeners ; but at other times, and especially
when the bird is alarmed, its figure is seen to be
much more slender, as its plumage then lies closer.
It is very different from the common sparrow in
its habits, beiDg^ wild shy bird, avoiding the pre-
sence of man arid his habitations, and dwelling in
the country by the borders of woods, and among
the willows of the brook. It is sometimes found
in the thicker recesses of our woodlands ; but so
far from deseiwing the name of mountain spaiTow,
it apparently prefers low lands, and is more abun-
dant in the flats of Lincolnshire than in any other
part of Britain. Its English name of tree spaiTow
is more indicative of its haunts.

TIIE TREE SPARROW.

265

This species builds in old trees or walls, and its
nest is made of dry grass, lined with feathers.
Its eggs arc from four to six in number, of a dull
white colour, speckled with light grey brown. It
is not a common bird in Britain, but is scattered
over the colder parts of Asia and Europe. When
hopping on the ground it may be easily known
from tlie common sparrow, by its different gait,
its legs being much shorter than those of that
species. When it alights on a spot, it will keep
perpetually moving the tail, lowering and raising
it, and fluttering restlessly.

CHAPTER L\.

GOLDFINCH — SISKIN — BRAMBLING CHAFFINCH — LINNET

MOUNTAIN LLXNET — LESSER REDPOLE MEALY LINNET

— GREEN LINNET — UAWHNCH CROSSBILL BULLFINai.

Some very sweet singers, «is well as very pretty
and interesting birds, are found in the tinch tribe.
No one accustomed to the country, will fail at
once to recal some of them, as the goldfinch, the
chaffinch, tlic linnet, and others, as among their
favourites ; while no tribe is more remarkable for
the compactness and beauty of their nests. Many
a rambler among our spring green woods will agree
with Hm*dis—

" I love to see the littlo goldfiuch jduck
The groundsel's feather'd weed, and twit and twit;
And then in bower of apple blossonit* perch'd,
Trim his gay suit, and j»ay ixs with a song."

A sweet and merry songster is the Goldfinch*

* The Goldfinch is five inches in length. Crown and pole
black, descending in a half collar; face crimson; sides of head
and neck white; back diLsky brown; wings and tail black,
tipped with white ; wing crossed by a broad band of yellow ;
under parts d\ill whitish-brown ; beai whitish ; feet flesh-colour-

THE GOLDFINCH. 267

[Car dwells elegans), a docile gentle bird, delighting
the eye both by its brilliant plumage and grace-
ful motion, while the strain, if not so rich and
varied as some others, is not deficient in melody.
When summer is not yet come, and only an occa-
sional gleam of sunshine makes us dream of spring,
while leaves are scarcely opening, and fiowers are
few, tlie song of the goldfinch is heard from the
orchard tree, and all the neighbourhood echoes to
its long continued strain. But wlien the joyous
month of May is in its glory of leaves, and the
trees are white or rose-tinted with their blossoms,
the song is richer and fuller in its tone, and salutes
tlie ear of him who goes at dawn of day to his
labours, and cheers him when again he seeks Jiis
lionie at evening. One grieves, while listening to
its happy tones, to think that when autumn
comes the bird-catcher may make our favourite a
captive. It is not prized as a cage bird so much
for its song, as for its docility in learning various
little accomplishments. Some of the birds, when
taken, are destined to mope and die in cages,
longing for that pure air and liberty for which
they are fitted ; but some will live, and apparently
enjoy life, even when deprived of all which Avould

268 OLH NATIVE SONGSTERS.

seem to make life an enjo}Tnent to a LircU The
goldfinch has more sociability and less of rivalry
than some other species, and will thrive best if its
captivity is shared witli companions. If a mirror is
placed in its cage it will go and look at itself in tlie
glass, take the hemp-seeds, one by one, and eat
before it ; not, it would seem, from motives of per-
sonal admiration, but from tlie idea that it was enjoy-
ing its meal in comi)any. It may be made to acquire
a gi-eat precision in its movements, and to perform
a variety of little feats. Thus it will learn to draw
water in a small bucket, to fire tiny cannons, and
to counterfeit death exactly at the proper moment.
Bingley, in his Animal Biography, gives an ac-
count of some acts of this kind. Some years ago,
he tells us, the Sieur Human exhibited in this
country the wonderful perf<.)rmances of several
goldfinches, linnets, and canaries. One appeared
to be dead, and was held up by the tail or claw
without exhibiting any signs of life. A second
stood on its head, with its claws in the air. A
third imitated a Dutch milkmaid, going to market
with pails on its shoulders. A fourth mimicked
a Venetian girl, looking out of a window. A
fifth represented a soldier, on guard as a sentinel.

<

TIIE GOLT)FI^'CH. 269

The sixth was a cannoneer, wore a cap on its head,
held a firelock in its claw, and discharged a small
cannon. Then it acted as if it had been wounded,
while another bird wheeled it away in a little
barrow, as if conveying it to an hospital ; after
which it flew away before all the assembled party.
One bird turned a small windmill ; and another
little creature had been trained to stand in the
midst of fireworks, and exhibit no signs of fear
while they were exploding all around it.

It is truly wonderful to see how so volatile a
creature as a bird can thus be made to subdue, for
a time, its natural impulses, which, after all, must
still remain unclianged, and must subject the poor
bird to great misery. Perhaps cruelty may not,
in all cases, be practised by those who thus dis-
cipline the birds, yet it is hardly possible to con-
ceive that so much can be effected without it.
^lany who now sit, admiring spectators of similar
perfomiances, would turn away with sickening
sensations of horror, could they discern the means
used in teaching them. Every kind-hearted per-
son would surely discourage exhibitions of this
sort, did they know the processes which are em-
ployed, at least by some of those who thus ti*ain

270 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

birds. Various writers who have witnessed these
public performances have recorded the different
deeds of severity by means of which the gold-
finches were awed into docility and skill by their
teachers. We can but rejoice that in oui' country
at least we are not often, in the present day,
invited to behold accomplishments of this kind,
for it is sad to think that the creatures wliich
God made to minister to the finer sensibilities of
our nature, should be turned, by cruel man, into
victims of agony, to give an hour's amusement
to the thoughtless.

It is pleasing to turn from instances in which
tlie natural intelligence of the goldfinch has been
thus directed, to one exhibited by this bird in its
untaught condition. " It was very early in the
spring of 1837," says a writer in the Magazine of
Natural History, " that a bird had been lost from
a cage, which was still hanging up, with the door
open, in the passage entrance to the back court of
a gentleman's house in Exmouth, when a gold-
finch was one morning found feeding in it, and
the door was closed upon it ; but on inspection, as
it appeared to be a female, it was very shortly
after restored to liberty. In the space, how-

THE GOLDEINCH. 271

ever, of about two hours it returned, and entered
the cage, when it was again shut in, and again
liberated ; and these visits were repeated daily,
for a considerable time. She was then missing for
some few days, but then returned, accompanied
by a male bird ; she entered the cage, and fed as
usual ; but her companion, after perching on the
outside of the cage, retired to a neighbouring tree,
until she joined him. They then quitted, and
were no more thought of; but at the end of seven
or eight weeks she again made her appearance,
and accompanied, not by her fonner companion,
but by four young ones, when she again entered
the cage and fed as usual; but as she could not
induce her brood, for such they were presumed to
be, to follow her example, she finally went off
with them, and has not since that time again made
her appearance."

The goldfinch is a very affectionate little bird,
soon learning to love those who treat it kindly ;
making a low murmuring noise of pleasure when
its owner approaches its cage, and evincing great
delight at his return after an absence. Like many
affectionate natures, it is apt to desire the exclu-
sive love of the object of its regard, and shows

272 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

great displeasure in seeing another caressed. It
is also very fond of its young, and nothing A^'ill
interrupt the patience of the lien bird in sitting,
while her mate watches carefully over her, singing
to her from a neighbouring tree, only flying off at
an approaching footstep, in order to attract the
attention from the nest, and retui'ning to the post
immediately after. This elegant little structure
is composed externally of vegetable fibres, moss
and lichens; and when the down of plants or
wool can be procured, these are woven into a
compact felt, with such skill, that Knapp well
characterises the little architect, as " that inimit-
able spinner, that Arachne of the groves." The
neatly rounded nest is lined, and made warm
and comfortable by down gathered from the leaf
of the early coltsfoot ; or in the later year from
the thistle, and five or six eggs are placed there of
a bluish white colour, spotted ^\dtli bro^^^l towards
the larger end. By the time in which the gold-
finch builds, the leaves are thickening on the
trees, and the nest is hidden by them on the
flexible branch of the fruit-tree, where the young
ones are rocked, as in a cradle by the winds.
Sometimes a garden evergreen is selected as a

THE GOLDriNCH. 273

spot in wliicli to place the little home whicli
is the object of so much skill and care, and
evinces so gTeat a taste in the builder for order
and beauty.

We owe much to the goldfinch as well as to
the other finch tribe for their prevention of the
growth of weeds. Their young are fed on seeds
macerated in the crop, and these are chiefly of the
downy kind, which else would wing their way
over gardens and fields, and bring up a crop so
abundant, that the earth would have no room for
other plants.

It is true that the goldfinch may occasionally
steal the seeds of some garden plant which we
might wish to secure ; but when we think how
prodigious a quantity of these downy seeds are
to be found in our fields and hedgerows, we may
indeed welcome the aid of the bird in secur-
ing them from dispersion. The Great Creator
designed doubtless many of those seeds for the
especial use of the fowls of the air. Thus, not to
mention the dandelions, and groundsels, the colts-
foots, and hawkweeds which everywhere abound,
the one family of thistles alone would supply
enough of its beautiful crowned seeds to overrun

T

274 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

the land, were there not some means of waste. It
is pleasing to watch the goldfinch in the months
of July and August, when the very air is full
of floating thistle down,

*' Suddenly halting now — a lifeless stand !
Then starting off again with freak as sudden.
In all its sportive wanderings, all the while,
Making report of an invisible breeze
That was its wings, its chariot, and its horse,
Its playmate^ — rather say, its moving soul."

It is pleasing to watch the bird's joy as it sits
pecking at the thistle tuft. Happily, though the
wind is bearing away so many of the seeds, and
casting all which arc destined to prove fertile on
their fitting soils, yet many are left in tufts, to
show where the rich purple flower has been ; and
quite late in the autumn, the goldfinch may be
seen flitting about the hedges, twitting and peck-
ing at the thistle do^vn. The French call the
bird Chardonneret, from Chardon a thistle. The
scientific appellation, Cardiielis, is also fonned
from Carduus, the botanic name of a genus of
the plant ; and the bird is besides in some countiy-
places called Thistle-finch, and is the Distelfinh of
the Germans. Our country people also term this

THE SISKIN. 275

favourite bird Goldwing, and the Scotch call it
the Goldspink or Goldie.

During winter the goldfinches often congi-egate
in flocks, and repair to some spot well supplied
with thistles, plantains, groundsel, and other plants
which furnish them with food, when they sud-
denly alight, and are immediately busy in their
searches ; but as soon as spring comes round, they
are to be found in the woods and gardens, build-
ing their nests, and singing their happy welcome
to warm showers and sunshine.

The goldfinch is very abundant, and is pretty
generally diffused throughout Europe. It is com-
mon in the Greek Isles, and though not a migra-
tory bird, yet it removes during winter either to
tlie continent or to the largest islands. The Greeks
call it Karedreno.

The Siskin,* or Aberdevine {Carduelis spinus)^
is scarcely inferior to the goldfinch in its power of
learning the various little performances for which

* The Siskin is about four inches and a half in length. Upper
parts greenish-olive, streaked with black ; crown and face black ;
winga and their coverts black tipped with yellow ; rump yellow ;
tail-feathers yellow with black tips ; chin and throat black ;
under parts yellowish, streaked with black; beak and feet
brown.

276 OUR NATIYE SONGSTERS.

that bird is prized by those who keep it in a cage.
Many of the least difficult of these tricks are
taught by those who are able to bestow time and
attention on their little favourites, and are quite
unaccompanied by any practice of cruelty. Thus,
the siskin soon learns to come to its master or
mistress at the sound of a little bell ; and to draw
up the water for its own refreshment, by means of
a small bucket. When kept in an aviary it is one
of the liveliest of birds, always awaking among
the earliest, and singing so as to invite the others
to a chorus ; while it is so mild in its temper, that
it never quarrels with the other birds. It seems
constantly in a gay singing mood, and when not
thus occupied, it is to be seen with its bill arrang-
ing its feathers, so as to be always cleanly and un-
ruffled. No birds are easier tamed tlian these, for
they will begin to eat directly after being made
captives, and will build in a room and rear their
young amid the boughs hung there for their use
or pleasure. !Mr. Gardiner mentions that a friend
of his kept a pair of siskins, which built their nest
of moss and cotton, with which they were sup-
plied. They, however, showed so decided a pre-
ference to the cotton, tliat on a quantity of this

THE SISKIN. 277

substance being put into tlieir cage, they destroyed
the nearly completed nest, and began to build
another of their favourite material. He describes
this second structure as " an elegant, warn>, cozy
little habitation, similar in construction to that of
the chaffinch, but of smaller dimensions." "It
"was," he says, "truly delightful to observe how
admirably these little songsters performed their
parental duties ; the female bird never once leaving
the nest, during the fourteen days of incubation,
and afterwards both birds watching and feeding
their callow brood, with unwearied patience and
unceasing fondness."

If we consider that spot of the world in which
the bird rears its young to be its native land, tlien
the siskin can hardly be classed among our native
birds, for it only visits us during the winter, coming
just as the swallow departs, sometimes arriving
in Britain in considerable numbers ; at others, in
smaller Hocks. A few of the siskins, indeed, build
in some of the pine woods of the highlands of
Scotland ; and Sir William Jardine and Mr. Selby
saw these birds, in pairs, in the month of June,
near Killin, but from the great height of the trees

278 OUE natht: songsters.

found it impossible to procure their nests. Mr.
Thompson is also of opinion that the siskin pro-
bably builds in the north of Ireland. The favourite
resorts of the bird are plantations of larch, alder,
and bircli-trees, and during their winter stay, they
feed chiefly on the seeds of these trees ; while
in Germany, Norway, and Sweden, where they
abound, the nest is placed on the very highest
branches of the pine. Bechstein says that the
siskin is so common in villages of Germany, and
so courageous, that any one residing near an alder
grove need only put one of these birds in the
-window, near a stick covered with bird-lime, and
he may catch as many as he pleases. The siskins,
during the month of October, injure the hop
grounds of Gemiany very materially, by eating
the seeds of the plant; and in France tliey are
accused of despoiling the orchards in spring, by
pecking at the flowers of the fruit-trees.

These birds fly at a great height, and their
movements are very active and gracefuL They
are large eaters, and in captivity will consume so
much food as to endanger their lives. They share,
during autumn, with the goldfinch, in the feast of

THE SISKIN. 279

thistle-down, which the winds and rains have spared ;
and climb, and cling, and flit about in most beau-
tiful attitudes. Their song is not powerful, but
very sweet ; nor so plaintive as that of the linnet,
nor so sprightly as that of the goldfinch ; and the
sweetness of the strain is now and then inter-
rupted by a jarring note, similar to that made by
the nightingale, when angry. The Saxon stocking-
weavers fancy that its tones resemble the noise
made by the loom, and are accordingly very fond
of the siskin. This indefatigable singer can also
imitate the notes of other birds, as the chaffinch,
or the lark, but it cannot learn to repeat a mu-
sical air.

In Germany, where the siskin remains through-
out the year, the nest is fixed to the top of a
pine or fir-tree, with the entangling threads of the
v/eb wrought by the spider or caterpillar. It is
formed of small twigs, and lined with vegetable
fibres ; and it contains four or five eggs, of a grey-
ish white, spotted with red.

It is among the dark old forests of the ISTorth,
where the rough cold winds sweep in among the
evergreen branches, and bronzed trunks of the firs,
that another of our winter visitants rears its young.

280 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

The Brambling* or Mountain Finch [Fringilla mon-
tifringilla) comes in winter, not only to our island,
but is spread generally all over the European
continent, leaving the wild mountainous region,
which is its place of song, till the snows shall have
melted from hill, and plain, and bough, being more
numerous here in the severe than in the milder
winters. This species is not, however, at any
time very abimdant in our larch plantations, but
in beech woods, in some other countries, it comes in
great abundance. Bcchstcin says that these birds
assemble in the beech forests of Thuringia,,in im-
mense numbers, coming from tlie north in parties
consisting of 100,000 individuals. It is generally in
captivity a bold and hardy bird. ]\Ir. Blyth remarks
— " Were I to judge of tlie temper and disposition
of the bramble finch from one which I kept in
confinement last summer, I should call it one of
the most untameable of birds ; but were I to form

* The Brambling is six inches and three quarters in length.
Head and back rich black (in winter freckled with brown); wing-
coverts fawn colour with two black bands ; quills black, with
tawny edges ; rump white, varied with black ; tail black with
pale edges ; throat, breast, and sides rich fawn colour ; lower
parts white; interior surf;\ce of the wing yellow at the shoulder;
beak blue in summer, yellowish in winter ; feet light brown.

k

THE CHAFFINCH. 281

my judgment from tlie individual whicli I possess
at present, I should on the contrary deem it to be
very familiar and confiding." This bird is some-
times called Grosheah cF Ardennes, and is thought
by Mr. Broderip to be the Pinson d' Ardennes of the
old French author Belon. Of its song nothing
seems certainly known, but it appears to be less
musical than most of the finches. Its call is
merely a monotonous chirp. Besides the seeds of
the fir tribe, it greedily devours those of our most
common plant, the knot grass.

But leaving the more rare birds, for one whose
song is known to every country resident, we must
pass on to the Chaffinch* [Frincjilla coelehs), whose
lively call-note, and varied strain, may be heard as
soon as those of the blackbird, and while the chil-
ling winds of February are resounding through
the leafless trees. Now it perches on the wall,
picking out tiic seeds from that little white -

• The Chaffinch is six inches in length. Head and neck dark
grey ; back chestnut ; wings black with two bands of white ; the
quills edged with pale brown; tail black, the outer feathers
partly white ; face, ear-coverts, and whole under parts reddish-
brown, brightest on the breast ; beak blue ; feet brown. The
female has all the colours more subdued, and more nearly
uniform.

282 OUR ^'ATIVE SONGSTERS.

flowered plant, the whitlow grass, which grows in
such numbers there ; now it is away to the road-
side, to peck at the young buds and seeds of the
groundsel or chickweed, which may be seen already
offering their green buds, and small blossoms ; or
it hunts among the young green blade of the corn-
field, for the ivy-leaved speedwell, whose blue
flowers are even, in early spring, already pass-
ing into seed. The author of the Journal of a
Naturalist says too, that the cliafiinches will com-
pletely deflorate tlie spikes or whorls of the com-
mon red archangel, or dead nettle, which is one of
our earliest blooming plants, and is to be seen, late
in Febmary and during the next two months,
under every hedge. " At this season," our author
says, *' they may be seen with their little mouths
quite full of the green seeds of this nettle." He
adds too that they are, at the same period, sad
plunderers of the kitchen garden, drawing up
most dexterously young turnips and radishes
as soon as they make their appearance ; though
after this time all depredations cease, and the rest
of their days are spent in sportive innocence.
They are among the birds too which peck at our
crocuses and polyanthuses, and spoil their beauty.

THE CHAFFINCH. 283

But though the full-grown birds delight chiefly in
a vegetable diet, it must not be forgotten that the
young are fed almost wholly upon insects ; and as
the chaffinches have large and hungry broods,
these birds are very valuable in gathering them
from the trees and bushes. Selby remarks of the
chaffinch, that in summer it feeds most upon in-
sects and larvae, and that he has witnessed its
assiduity during the autumn, in devouring the
females of a large species of aphis, which infests
the trunks and stronger branches of the larch, and
some other kinds of fir. A writer in Loudon's
Magazine confirms this statement. " In the early
part of last summer," he says, " our attention was
attracted by a chaffinch, which, as we sat in our
room, we observed to pay repeated visits to a
broom bush, immediately in front of our window.
The bird remained a considerable time in the bush
at each visit, and appeared exceedingly busy about
something, hopping from spray to spray. We sus-
pected that the object of plunder was the soft young
seeds of the broom, which, at that time, was much
in the same state as peas are in when fit to gather.
Upon examination, however, we found every part
whole and untouched ; but the bush was covered

284 OUR NATrn: songsters.

with aphides, and these we ascertained, not the
soft seeds, were what attracted the chaffinch.
Whether the bird devoured the aphides itself,
while in the bush, or, as we rather suspect, carried
them off for the pui-pose of feeding the young
brood, we cannot say ; but an immense number of
aphides must have been destroyed during its re-
peated visits."

Thus it is with several other of our small birds.
They injure our flowers and buds, and we forget
liow much we owe to them, on the other hand, for
their destruction of the insect race. The Great
Creator has ordained that one living creature
should prey upon another ; and were one link
wanting in the chain, which tlius binds them as
to a common destiny, the results would be more
terrible than we can conceive. It is well known
that the foliage and young fruits of orchards and
gardens have greatly suffered from the habit of
destroying those small birds, which would else
have prevented the increase of insects. Mr. Curtis,
the author of several valuable botanical works, paid
great attention to this subject. He was the owner
of large orchards, and so convinced was he, by long
observation, of the utility of the small birds, that

THE CHAITINCH. 285

he would not permit one of Ms servants to scare
them away. Eooks, jays, and even sparrows are
valuable in destroying various insects and their
larvge. The flycatcher, though it deserves its
Kentish name of Cherry-sucker, yet is perpetually
snappnig at insects on the wing. The swallow
tribe even leave the fruits and buds untouched,
and destroy myriads of insects ; and the titmice
and other birds peer into the crevices on the barks
of trees, or among the mosses and grasses, and
carry off the creeping things by thousands. We
have only to consider how immense is the number
of insects, even in our own land, where they are
far less numerous than in tropical comitries, and
we shall estimate better the instrumentality of the
birds. Messrs. Kirby and Spence, after institut-
ing a comparison between the numbers of British
insects with that of British flowering plants, con-
clude, that on the average there are more than six
species of insect to each species of vegetable.
" If," say they, " we reckon the flowering vege-
tables of the globe in round numbers at 100,000
species, tlie number of insects would amount to
600,000. If we say 400,000 we shall perhaps
not be very wide of the truth." If such is the

286 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

number of species, that of individuals must be
countless as the grains of sand or the cbops of
ocean.

Were it not for the aid of birds in effecting the
destruction of these beautiful but often destructive
creatm-es, the very air would become insupportable
from their numbers, and the earth would be made
barren by their devastations. Not only would
they give pain to man and the lower animals by
their stings, or annoy our ears by a perpetual
hum, but our very food would be rendered dis-
gusting by their eggs. In the hotter climates,
where they are permitted to increase in larger pro-
portion than the birds which feed on them, they
become an annoyance which is almost insupport-
able ; and were it not in those lands that birds are
found to lessen their numbers, the locusts and
others of the tribe would soon leave the earth
without a remnant of gi*een ; and the mosquitos
and other insects would in time even exterminate
man from the face of the eartli.

The chaffinch is one of tlie handsomest of our
song birds, and one of the most common birds
too. We are all ready to admit that its song is
sweet and varied, and even its call-note of " twink.

THE CHAFFINCH. 287

twink," is not unmusical. Yet English ears are
not deliglited with the music as are those of
Germany. The Germans have marked with the
greatest accuracy all the niceties of tlie strain ;
and if the bird finishes it by the word " fink," the
birdcatchers prize it more highly for what they
call its amen. Ko price is thought too high for
the pmxhase of a well- trained chaffinch, and as
the inliabitants of Thuringia will sometimes give a
cow in exchange for a bird distinguished for its
song, a common proverb is in use, "Such a
chaffinch is worth a cow." Artisans liave been
known to go ninety miles from home to take with
birdlime one of these birds, reputed for its song •
and a common workman will give a louis d'or
(sixteen shillings,) for a good singer. Bechstein,
who partakes in the national enthusiasm for this
bird, says, " that he could, if he liked, write a
good sized volume on all the details of its music."
Even the cries which indicate the passions and
wants of the chaffinch are minutely recorded by
this excellent observer of singing birds. " Trif,
traf," is its note of tenderness, which is thought
also to foretell the change of weather. Its call-
note is "iak, iak;" and its cry of "fink, fink," from

288 Om ^'ATIVE SONGSTERS.

whicli its German name is derived, is, he says,
mechanical and involuntary.

The following songs or melodies sung by tlie
chaffinch, are those wliich are chiefly prized in
Saxony and Hesse. Some of them are heard
in the woods, but they are chiefly produced by
educating the voice of the bird.

1. The double Trill of the Hartz, wliich Bcch-
stein says, an amateur cannot hear without
being in a perfect ecstasy. 2. The Eider's Song.
8. The Wine Song, wdiich has also several sub-
di\asions. 4. The Bridegroom's Song. 5. The
double Trill, which Bechstein says can only be
lieard in the house, and is so deep and powerful
that it can scarcely be conceived liow the larynx
of so small a bird can produce sucli sounds.

6. The Good Year Song, with two subdivisions.

7. The Quakin Song, which was formerly much
admired, but which seems now to be almost extinct
in Germany, as our author considered that he
possessed at that time the only bird which could
perform it. 8. The Pithia, or Trewithia, which
he says is a very uncommon and agreeable song,
never heard but in the depths of the Thuringian
mountains.

THE CHAFFINCH. 289

Its oft-repeated ciy in our woods of '' fink, fink,"
has obtained for our bird the name of Pink, Spink,
and Twink ; by one or other of which it is well
known, in various country places ; while its lively
manners and gay plumage gave rise to the old
proverb current in France, " As gay as a chaffinch."
As light-hearted as a bird, is indeed a common
comparison in every country, for of all creatures,
birds seem the gayest. The young lamb, frolicking
at times on the green meadow, is at other moments
staid and grave compared with them. And how
should the bird be otherwise than gladsome ? We
all know something of the influence of a pure
atmosphere both on mind and body. The bird
breathes continually the purest air, and, removed
by its soaring wing from the sm-face of earth,
which is surcharged with vapours and exhala-
tions ; taking perpetually by its flight the most
active exercise ; following its own impulses in
perfect freedom from every restraint, — how should
the untamed bird fail to be a creature of wild joy ?
Made too as it is for a tenant of air, it is ex-
quisitely fitted for facility of motion. Its whole
framework is penetrated by air. It has large
lungs, with appendages and prolongations, through
U

290 OUR NATIYE SONGSTERS.

which it breathes with great rapidity, and imbibes
a large quantity. Its bones are made light by
cavities, filled with air instead of marrow ; and
the feathers admit air into their interstices. The
wings of the bird, convex above, and concave
below, are moved by most vigorous muscles ; and
the downy and feathery covering protects it better
than aught else could do, from the sudden and
great variations of temperature to which it is
exposed, and is at the same time of lightest
nature. Every feather has a stem, hollow in part;
and the barbs are all studded with lesser barbs,
arranged with the gi'eatest skill, and all of so
little weight, that a feather has become a very
type of lightness. We rarely find fossil bones of
birds, and it is because of this lightness, for such
as die on the water or fall into it, do not sink into
the ground as other objects might do, before they
had time to be wholly devoured or decomposed.
What wonder that with a system so adapted for
inhaling the pure air, and so well suited for motion,
the bird should be impatient of repose, and need
little sleep ? that it should feel blithe and buoyant,
and pour out its full heart in song ? With its free
and independent habits, and delicate sensations,

THE CHArFINCH. 291

it is conscious, without dread, of atmospheric
changes ; and knows often of their approach long
before they are made perceptible to our less sensi-
tive organization. Its very song is rendered so full
and loud by means of the volume of air which it can
introduce into its throat, and the force with which
it can expel it, that after long and loud warb-
lings it usually presents no appearance of exhaus-
tion. Who that, while listening to the song of the
lark, as it wings its way to the sky, or watches the
white dove as it glides among the dark greenwood,
is not ready to say with the Psalmist, " Oh, that
I had the wings of the dove, for then would I flee
away, and be at rest ! " Yet that same capacity
for flight would unfit us for thought and reflec-
tion ; and by rendering us impetuous and volatile
as the bird, would deprive us of the faculty of
attention, by which alone our minds can gather
greatness. There are hours when the solitude
and silence of the forest might well harmonize
with our feelings ; yet, had we wings to wander
thither, the ties of earth, with all its loves and
friendships, would soon bring us back to our
hearths and homes.

But to return to the merry bright-eyed chafiinchj

292 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

whose early song in field, or wood, or garden-hedge
has so often delighted us ; and which, beginning
that song early in February, sings it till after
Midsummer. When this bird is in captivity, it
soon leams to imitate the songs of other birds,
and may even be taught to articulate some words.
On some parts of the continent, where the song is
prized, the cruel practice is used of depriving it
of its sight to improve its music. The poor little
bird may sing the better, because it can no longer
be amused or distracted by surrounding objects;
but he must have a hard heart who could listen to
its singing with any emotion save that of sorrow
and pity ; for the pei-petual turning of the head of
the blind and helpless creature would prevent our
forgetting, even for a moment, the restless spirit
within, or the cruel act which bound that bird to
sorrow.

But it is among its native boughs that we
love to see it framing its nest with busy care,
and with most tasteful skill, and of such colours as
to resemble the objects surrounding it ; forming it
of wool and moss, and adorning it with white or
green lichens, gathered from the time-stained tree,
and perhaps stealing the threads of the spider's web,

THE CHAFFINCH. 293

to help to twine it together. It is lined with wool,
over which there is a layer of hair and feathers :
and this elegant little structure, which is hardly
surpassed in beauty by that of any other European
bird, is placed on the tree or thickly-branched
shrub, sometimes among the boughs of the pear
or apple-tree, or in the holly or ivy. It is
made by the female bird alone ; but during the
time when she is hatching, her mate in some
measure atones for his former remissness, by never
quitting her except to procure food, which he
brings back and shares with her ; and no sooner
are the young birds hatched, than both parents are
actively employed in feeding them, hunting most
diligently for the soft-bodied insects and caterpillars
which suit them best, or bringing them, when
these fail, or when their increased powers can better
digest them, the grains of corn, which they extri-
cate for them from the husk with great dexterity.

The chaffinch is remarkable for cleanliness and
perpetual trimming of its plumage, and very careful
too are these birds in removing from their nest any-
thing which would lessen its comfort. They have
two broods in the year, and the eggs, which are
four or five in number, are of a pale purplish

294 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

yellow colour, with streaks and spots of dark reddish
brown, which are thicker at the larger end.

The chaffinch is a British resident, but in the
more northern countries of Europe it is a migratory
bird, and numbers come during winter to our land,
and join the flocks of native chaffinches. They
have been said by various naturalists to migrate in
diffisrent companies, some flocks consisting wholly
of male, and others of female birds, but this point
is not yet fully ascertained.

This bird is very common in the neighbourhood
of Rome, and great numbers are taken there during
the month of October, with other small birds,
which are a favourite article of diet with the
Italians. C. L. Bonaparte, prince of IMusignano,
says, that the chaffinches are taken in much larger
proportion than any other bird, at Paretajo and
Roccolo ; 500 chaffinches being, according to this
writer, captured to every 80 linnets, 65 goldfinches,
80 green grosbeaks or greenfinches, &c. &e. The
Italians call the bird Franguello, Frang^ielio, and
Sjnncime. It is the Pinson of the old French writers;
and Belon, who ^vrote his folio volume in 1555, men-
tions its powerful voice, and says that it was kept
in a cage for its singing. It is now in various parts

THE GREY LINNET. 295

of France called Pinson, Pinion, Grinson and
Quinson, and is the ScMld-vink of the Germans.
The ancient British, like the (xermans, had a re-
ference to its note in their name, and called it
Wine. Besides the country names which have
been already noticed, it is termed spink, twink,
skelly, shell-apple, horse-finch, copper-finch,
scobby, shilfa ; and is in many villages better
known by these names, than by that of chaffinch.
The walk among the yellow gorse of the heath
is made delightfid by the song and movements of
the linnets there. As our old poet Michael Dray-
ton sings : —

" And now the mirthful quires with their full open throats
Unto the joyful mom so strain their warbling notes,
That hills and valleys ring, and even the echoing air,
Seems all composed of songs about them everywhere."

The common Linnet* [Linota cannohina) is La
Linotte of the French WTiters, and bears the pretty

* The Common Linnet is five inches and three quarters in
length. Head and neck greyish-brown, the feathers of the crown
tipped with red ; back and wing-coverts chestnut ; wing-quills
and tail black edged with white ; under parts light brown ; breast
bright red ; beak lead colour ; feet brown. In winter the red of
the crown and breast disappears, and the latter is streaked with
brown- The female also wants the red hue at all times.

296 OUE NATIVE SONGSTERS.

Scottish names of Lintie and Lintwliite. Burns,
when in despairing mood, says : —

"In vain to me the cowslips blaw ;
In vain to me the violets spring ;
In vain to me in glen or shaw

The mavis and the lintwhite sing."

The bird is sometimes called the greater redpole,
the rose linnet, and the grey or brown linnet.
The latter names differ as to the colom' of the
bird; and the variations of the plmnage of the
linnet at different seasons of the year have occupied
much attention among ornithologists, and were,
Tuitil fully ascertained, the cause of some confusion
of species. Thus the male birds of the first year
have none of the red colour on the head which is
to be seen on the older birds, but the plumage is
dashed with black, and the breast is very slightly
tinged with red, because the feathers are reddish
grey at the base and reddish white at the edge.
Thus the bird, in this condition, is the grey linnet.
But our grey linnet sings and thrives, and by the
time he is three years old his dress is altogether
changed, and he, at least during spring, merits the
name of greater redpole, for the forehead is of rich
crimson hue, though the remainder of the head

THE LINNET. 297

plumage is of reddish asli colour, with only a few
black feathers at the top. The upper part of the
neck is now reddish white, the plumage of the
back of a fine rich brown, the throat is of yellow
white, with dashes of reddish grey, the sides of the
breast of rich crimson, while the greater portion
of the under part of the bird is of reddish white:
our bird is no longer the grey linnet.

But the autumn moulting brings a third change,
and our little bird has less of crimson and more of
white tints on the head and breast, till winter
restores the rich colours to the plumage. In
summer too, the female linnet, with her more sober
brown hues, is often mistaken for the male bird,
and thus arose the name of brown linnet. Birds
reared in the house, never, according to Bechstein,
acquire the fine red hue on the neck and breast
common to the wild linnet, but remain grey like
the male birds of one year old : on the other hand^
older birds, which, when first brought into the
house, have the red plumage, lose their beautiful
colours at their first moulting, and remaining grey
like the young bird, are for the rest of their days
^rcy linnets.

But though this bird thus loses in captivity

298 OUE NATIVE SONGSTERS.

some of its gay tints, yet the common linnet is in
as great request, as a cage bird, as the gayer gold-
finch, or beautiful bullfinch; and many birdcatchers
are engaged in taking the linnets. This is a sweet
and gentle bird, of a very loving character, and
perfectly distinguishing from all others the person
who tends it. It will perch on the finger and
caress it, and even seem by its looks to express
affection. Like many of our small singing birds,
it can well imitate the strains of others, and can
even sing a song so like tliat of the nightingale,
that many would believe it to be sung by the bird
of night itself. In doing this, our linnet quite
loses its own natural song, thus evincing an ex-
cellent memory, since those only in whom this
faculty is retentive, will entirely abandon their
own natui'al song for that of another bii'd. The
Hon. Daines Barrington, who has recorded many
experiments which he made with singing birds,
mentions a linnet which was taken from the nest
when only two or three days old, which even
learned to talk. " It belonged," he says, " to Mr.
Matthews, an apothecary at Kensington, and from
a want of other sounds to imitate, almost articulated
the words 'pretty boy,' as well as some other short

THE LINNET. 299

sentences. I heard the bird myself repeat the
words 'pretty boy,' and Mr Matthews assured me
that he had neither the note nor call of any bird
whatsoever."

How sweet is the song of the wild linnet in the
early morning, while the gradually opening flowers
are yet wet with dew, and the gossamer threads
are among the grass, and the open downs are
bright with the butterfly-like flowers of the gorse
and furze. As we walk over the heath, we listen
for one moment to a solitary song, but hardly have
we paused to listen more fully, than a whole
chorus of linnets seems to have been awakened by
the strain, and sing to us both long and loud their
gentle concerts. A little cloud comes over the
blue sky, and the pattering rain -drops drive us to
the nearest tree for shelter. The loud song ceases,
but scarcely has that cloud poured forth its last
drops, than again the linnets twitter among the
bushes, and again they are singing, as if rejoicing
in the freshened air. Could we linger there till
evening, those songs would still be heard, save in
the almost universal silence of Natm^e at the
summer noonday. Nor when the gorse has lost
its flowers, and the shrub has nothing to show.

300 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

save its long dark gi*een boughs and black seed-
vessels, lias the linnet sung its latest song. A
gleam of sunshine from a blue sky wakens the
glad heart of the linnet in autumn, and sometimes
even on a winter's day, and those sweet wild notes
are again heard, though the strain is weaker and
more plaintive, and seems more accordant with the
melancholy tones of the wind, which are now
bringing down the leaves at every gust, than with
all the joyous influences which unite with the
clear and brilliant song of April.

The linnet lives in great harmony and friend-
ship with its fellows, claiming no little spot, like
the robin or nightingale, as its own peculiar
domain, but sharing the sun and shower, the
flowers and fruits, with any winged creatm-e that
comes thither. It eats the seeds of the thistle,
ragworts, and any other of the compound flowers
which in autumn are so numerous ; and picks the
seed out of the seed-vessel of the little scarlet
pimpernel, or the starry stitchwort, hunting out
this food with its companions, so merrily and good-
temperedly, that they form a great contrast to
some companies of birds which we see contesting
every seed or worm found by another, as if it had

THE LINNET. 301

been unfairly taken from its own meal. It is
probably because of the number of flax-seeds con-
sumed by this bird, that the linnet received its
names. Thus, Linota, Linaria, La Linotte, and
our English linnet, may all have been derived
from Lmuon, flax.

This bird builds among the furze or brambles,
and its nest is made of mosses and gTass-stalks,
intermingled with wool, and lined with feathers and
hairs ; the eggs are of bluish white, speckled with
purplish red. The parent birds show much affec-
tion for their young, the male linnet cheering his
mate with a continual song, and uttering a cry so
plaintive, on any apparent danger, that none but
the thoughtless or hard-hearted could persist in
an intrusion. Any danger to the nest and its con-
tents will agitate the linnet most violently. It
will flit from bush to bush, then disappear; then
return again, quite tremulous with emotion.
Sometimes, when the birds are greatly alarmed,
during the period of incubation, they will both
fly from the nest, and remain absent for an hour ;
but never after the young are hatched will the
mother bird forsake her family so long as it re-
quires her care.

302 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

The common linnet remains with us all the
year, frequenting in summer, not only the heath-
lands, but those which lie near woods, or thick
hedges, where the furze is plentiful. When win-
ter approaches, these birds wander in flocks over
the fields, and then become the ready prey of the
birdcatcher. They live longer in captivity than
most other birds, and Sonnini mentions one, which,
after living forty years, was at last killed by an
accident. Of this bird, that writer says that it
was a sweet and docile little creature, that it
could call the persons of the house by name, and
would whistle perfectly six tunes, learned from the
bird-organ. It is very generally distributed, not
only over our own land, but throughout Em'ope.

The linnet delights to dabble in the clear
stream; and, indeed, has been said to be the
cleanliest of all birds. Beautiful as birds are,
yet few persons are aware how very cleanly they
are generally in their habits. No ruffled plume
escapes their attention, and no sooner is any soil
contracted by the plumage, than the bird is ac-
tively engaged in trimming it. Even young
nestlings scarcely open their eyes to the light
before they begin to trim the down, which as yet

THE LINNET. 303

takes the place of feathers ; and their little heads
are turned round, and their bills busy in making
every scrap lie smoothly on the surface ; while a
young bird will sometimes, after arranging its
own plumes, endeavour to set to rights those of
the nestling near it. Some birds, like the larks,
roll in the dust, and cleanse their plumage by
pulverizing : and many young birds have so great
a desire for washing, that when in confinement,
and unable after the ablution to exercise or dry
themselves among the leaves, they perish by cold.
The impulse for washing, when checked during
captivity, seems to render the bird almost mad.
The Hon. and Eev. W. Herbert remarks on this
subject : — " It is very injurious to a nightingale
to wash in the winter, and it is fatal to it to do so
often ; yet the moment a pan of water is put into
its cage, it rushes into the water and soaks itself,
and then stands shivering, the very image of chil-
liness and despair ; yet it will eagerly repeat the
operation, if allowed to do so, every day till it
dies. Young whinchats, sedge-warblers, wood-
wrens, yellow wrens, &c., as soon as they can feed
themselves, if offered water in a cage, wash with
similar avidity; yet, if the temperature be much

304 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

under 70^, and the sun not sliining, it is sure to
kill them." The wild birds which can at all times
seek out the stream, probably know better at
what seasons to bathe ; and, at any rate, they can
fly and hop about till warmth and reaction are
procured, and can rub themselves quickly among
the leaves, and remove some of the moisture very
easily. The writer just referred to remarks, " I
think the desire of washing belongs most strongly
to the birds which migrate to hotter climates in
winter; that of dusting to those which remain
with us ; a substitution wise, as all the dispensa-
tions of the Creator; for if the little wren in
winter were to wash in cold water instead of dust-
ing, it must perish with the chill."

The Mountain Linnet,* or Twite [Lmota mon-
tmm), is very nearly allied to the common linnet,
but is more slender in form. Its name of Twite
originated in a note which it often utters, and it
is called also Heather Linnet, and by the Scotch,
Heather Lintie. It is a common bird in moun-

* The Mountain Linnet is five inches and a quarter in length.
It much resembles the preceding, but is more slender, and the
tail is longer. It has no red on the head or breast, but the rump
is tinged with this colour in summer; the throat is tawny
brown.

THE MOUNTAIN LINNET. 305

tainoiis districts all the year, placing its nest on
the ground among the furze and heather, weaving-
sprigs of the heath with the dried grasses, and
lining the little dwelling with wool and grass
fibres. The eggs are of a light bluish green,
spotted witli brownish orange colour.

The song of the mountain linnet, though not so
sweet as that of the common species, is very simi-
lar. The notes are very rapid, and not clear and
llute-like ; sudden bursts of song coming forth at
intervals, so that, as Mr. Blyth has observed, it
resembles the sound of several birds singing to-
gether. This naturalist adds, " I have never
heard the sound, ' twite,' which it is alleged to
utter; but its usual notes upon the furze much
resemble those of the common linnet, being either
a low ' Tsu-tsu-tsu,' or a loud ' Chat-chat.' " This
bird experiences the same seasonal changes of
plumage as the common linnet, and like that
leaves in winter the moorlands which are its sum-
mer residence, and comes in flocks to the fields.
It is very abundant in Norway and Sweden, and
among the Scottish mountains, and in those which
contribute to the magnificent scenery of the north
of England.

306 OUR TsUTIVE SONGSTEHS.

It is in the Scottish islands, and in the northern
connties of England, Scotland and Ireland, also,
that we find that pretty little bird, the Lesser
Redpole* [Linota Unaria), It is widely distributed
over the northern portions of Europe, and also in
northern Asia, and sings its pleasant song among
the dreary wilds of Kamtschatka and Siberia. In
some winters large numbers of these redpoles
come to us from Norway and Sweden, with moun-
tain linnets, siskins, and other birds. It is some-
times kept in a cage, when it shortly becomes
familiar, and feeds out of the hand of its owner.
It can also be taught a variety of little amusing
performances, but it has no great power? of song,
its strain consisting only of a few somewhat melo-
dious and oft-repeated twitters. This pretty,
graceful bird, seems never at rest, but clings in
every attitude to the boughs, and flits gracefully
about, while seeking its food among the catkins of
the birch or alder, sometimes stripping for its
nest the ball of the willow of its abundant down

* The Lesser Redpole is four inches and a quarter in length.
Whole tipper plumage dark brown with pale edges ; forehead and
breast crimson ; throat black ; under parts pale brown, streaked
with darker brown on the sides ; beak and feet brown. The
females and young males are without the red on the breast.

THE LESSEE REDPOLE. 307

with SO mucli earnestness, tliat its whole heart
seems intent on this labour of love.

It is only, however, in the north of our island
that this nest is made, and the young ones reared ;
and there, too, the bird loves for its dwelling the
secluded wilds, far away from the homes of man,
and where nothing can be heard but the song of
the mountain shepherd, or the music of the stream,
as it winds its way through sedges and wild flowers.
Little thickets on the mountain, or hill side, where
the trees and bushes are refreshed by the waters,
are the retreats of the lesser redpole ; and there,
beneath the shelter of some thick bush, the nest
is hidden. It is made of mosses and dry grasses,
mixed with the plentiful willow down, and a
warm lining is made also of this soft, silky mate-
rial. The eggs are of a pale blue green, spotted
with olive brown. Macgillivray remarks, that
this bird remains all the year in many parts of
Scotland. He adds, that he has seen them in
August " scattered over a tract overgrown with
thistles, the seeds of which they picked out pre-
cisely in the same ma^nner as the goldfinch. On
such occasions, unless they have been previously
shot at or pursued, they take little heed of ap-

308 OUE NATIVE SONGSTERS.

proacliing danger, so tliat one may easily observe
them. The bird is not, however, always so inno-
cently employed as in stripping the willow catkin
of its down, or the alder or thistle of its seeds,
for it injm'es the trees by eating their young
buds.

This smallest of our linnets is, like the common
species, a sweet and gentle little bird. Audubon
remarks of the redpoles, " It was pleasing to see
several on a twig, feeding each other by passing
a seed from bill to bill, one individual sometimes
receiving from his two neighbours at the same
time." It is sometimes called the Eose Linnet.

The Mealy Linnet (Linota canescens), some-
times called the Mealy Redpole, is so similar to
the bird just described, that it is still a matter
of dispute whether it is not of the same species.
It is properly an inhabitant of the northern
regions of both hemispheres. Many of these birds,
however, visit om* island in flocks during the
winter, and are caught by the London bird-
catcher. It is a pleasing and gentle bird, but its
song is weak.

Among our commonest birds may be mentioned
that pre,tty species, the Greenfinch, or Green

THE GREENEINCK. 309

Linnet* {Coccothraustes cJiIoris), wliicli any one may
see wlio will walk abroad in the country during
April or May. This finch is called also Green-
bird, and is the Verdier of the French. Words-
worth has a poem addressed to it : —

" Upon yon tuft of hazel-trees,
That twinkle to the gusty breeze,
Behold him perch'd in ecstasies.

Yet seeming still to hover;
There, where the flutter of his wings
Upon his back and body flings
Shadows and summer glimmerings,
That cover him all over.

" My dazzled sight the bird deceives,
A brother of the dancing leaves;
Then flits and from the cottage-eaves

Pours forth his song in gushes ;
As if by that exulting strain
He mock'd and treated with disdain
The voiceless form he chose to feign,

While flitting in the bushes."

The beautiful plumage of the green-bird is,
however, almost too yellow to be mistaken for any

* The Greenfinch is six inches in length. Whole tipper parts
yellow-olive ; wings and tail greyish-brown ; the quill-feathers oi
both broadly marked with rich yellow; the shoulders edged with
yellow ; under parts yellow, brightest on the belly ; beak thick,
flesh-coloured ; feet pale brown. The female has the general
plumage dull brown, tinged with yellow-green on the rump
and belly.

310 OL'E native: songsters.

leaf save one of the autumnal bough. Poets and
naturalists will love this finch for its association
with woodland trees and flowers, with the haw-
thorn hedge, or the bough of the shrubbery ; but
it has no great powers of melody, and its song,
though somewhat sweet, is weak. It may also be
taught to repeat words, and surpasses even the
bullfinch in its docility. Bechstein says that it
may not only be accustomed to go and return
again, but also to build in a room near an orchard,
or in a summer-house in a garden.

The greenfinch is a resident bird, and is not
only generally diffused over Britain, but also
over the greater portion of Europe. It builds in
April, placing its nest in a bush, or in the very
thickest part of the hedge. This is formed of moss
and wool, lined with feathers or hairs. The eggs
are of a bluish white, speckled with pale orange-
brown. This bird is sometimes called the green
grosbeak. Its beak is indeed very large, and is
flesh-coloured.

In winter a number of greenfinches assemble in
farm-yards with the buntings and other small birds,
and flit and hop about in search of gi'ain. But
it is only in the daytime that they thus congregate

THE HAWFINCH. 311

with other species, as at night they quit the other
birds and betake themselves to the holly, or hr, or
other evergreens, when, after flying awhile around
the tree, they roost for the night.

A less generally known bird is the Hawfinch*
[Coccothraustes vulgaris). It has a remarkably
strong, conical bill, very thick at the base, and
admirably adapted for breaking the stones of
fruits and extracting the kernel, or for opening
the beech-nuts, of which it is very fond. Though
unfrequent in some parts of Britain, yet in others,
as in Epping Forest, it is numerous ; and it is
a common bird in Germany, Norway, Sweden,
and Russia. In some places it remains all the
year, and well deserves to be enumerated among
our wild songsters, though, from its shy and se-
cluded habits, its song is not so generally known
as that of most of our singing-birds. Mr. Selby
remarks of the hawfinch, that it probably utters

* The Hawfinch is seven inches in length. Upper parts chest-
nut, paling to fawn colour on the head and neck ; wings black,
crossed by a broad band of white ; tail black, tipped with white ;
the space between the eye and the beak, the chin and throat, deep
black; under parts pale brown; beak blue; feet light brown.
The wing-quills from the fifth to the ninth have their tips sin-
gularly notched on one vane, and curved over on the other.

312 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

a superior song. Beclistein considers that its
song is not very agreeable, consisting only of a
low Avliistling, mixed with some harsh tones. He
adds, however, that the tameness of this bird in
captivity may give pleasm-e; for timid as it is
when wild, it then acquires confidence, and will
even defend itself very courageously, by means of
its strong beak, from dogs and cats. Mrs. Mon-
tagu lieard it some mild days in winter, singing
some sweet, though low, plaintive notes ; and seve-
ral other naturalists describe its song as sweet,
though little varied.

As we might suppose from its familiar name,
our bird feeds on the hawthorn berries. It also
eats the fruits of the ash, maple, elm, laurel, holly,
juniper, hornbeam, and service trees ; and though
it may care little for the plum or cherry, yet it
values their kernels.

It usually builds in low, bushy trees, as the
hawthorn or holly; but sometimes it chooses a
high branch of some tall pine or fir. Instances are
known of its building, in two seasons following, on
the bough of the same tree, as if those memories
of past enjoyment, and those local associations, so
common to man, were no less shared by the bird.

THE HAWFINCH. 313

Its nest is not a very compact structure, and is
remarkably shallow. It is made of twigs and
fibres, always intermingled, more or less, with the
grey lichens, which add so mucli to the beauty of
a nest. The eggs are from four to six in num-
ber, of a greenish white, streaked with brown
and grey.

There seems little temptation to make a captive
of a bird whose song is very inferior to many, nor
is the hawfinch much prized as a cage-bird in this
country. In France, however, it is frequently thus
kept. When in confinement it is necessary that it
should be kept apart from other birds, for it will
kill a weaker companion by pinching out its flesh
with its strong talons, making all the while an
angry noise, which is like that made by a file.

So extremely shy is the bird when wild, that an
ornithologist remarks of it, — " In this trait it ex-
ceeds any land bird with which I am acquainted ;
and in open places it is almost impossible to
approach it within gun-shot." When it hears the
sound of a footstep, it flies ofl" immediately to the
very top of the tallest tree, and mingling there with
the foliage, soon becomes invisible. In the summer
months it makes much havoc amono-st trees in

314 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

the gardens in the nciglibourliood of Epping
Forest.

One of the earliest building birds is the Cross-
bill* [Loxia curvirostrajj which, as early even as
January, and commonly during the two following
months, is busy in this work of love and duty. It
seems occasionally to build in England, and some-
times rears its young among tlie pine ])lantations
of Scothmd, or more frequently still in Ireland.
Flocks of these remarkable birds come to our
sliores from northern countries, at various seasons
and nt irregular periods. Sometimes they arc seen
at ]\lidsuinnier, but more commonly in autumn.
During the latter end of the month of June, 1835,
a flight of these birds Avas observed about the
plantations of Saffron Walden and the neigh-
bouring villages, and described by a naturalist
there. lie remarks, that in the early part of their
visit, most of them were in a suit of plain, green-
ish, sober grey, some very dusky, so as to look
very dark, almost black ; and he mentions one

* The Crossbill is seven inches in length. The plnmage
varies nmch with sex and age : sometimes almost wholly scarlet;
at others yellowish olive ; sometunes a mottling of these colonrs,
or a combination of them into an orange, more or less bright.
The wings and tail are dark brown.

THE CROSSBILL. 315

which was shot in the June of the following year,
which was so clingy as almost to warrant the con-
clusion that it had chosen a chimney for its sleep-
ing-place. The plumage, however, was continually
changing ; some getting more gTcen, or of brighter
red or orange; and when in their full feathers, the
birds became of rich crimson.

Nothing can be more amusing than to watch the
crossbills when they first come to our plantations.
They keep up a perpetual twittering, as if they
Avere all in conversation togetlier, where all were
talkers and no listeners. They are far more active
than parrots ; but tliey remind one perpetually of
these birds, as with their strong feet they cling to
the branches, and swing themselves into the most
curious and picturesque attitudes. Sometimes they
hang horizontally, now they are perfectly upright
or flitting from bough to bough, swinging their
bodies to and fro the moment they alight.

Their beak is most curiously formed ; for the
mandibles cross each other, sometimes from left to
right, and sometimes from right to left. Buffon
accounted this singular bill a deformity ; but it is
admirably adapted to the wants of the bird, and is
a most beautiful instrument for the purposes it has

316 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

to accomplisli. Holding the fir-cone witli one foot,
and with the firm, sharp beak, extracting the ker-
nels, the crossbill makes a loud, snapping noise,
while throwing the empty cones to the ground,
one after another, as its appetite is being satisfied.
This beak becomes somewhat worn by long use ;
but as it grows continually, it is renewed.

The young crossbills, while in their nest, have
the mandibles of equal size, as their crossing would
prevent the nestlings from receiving so well the
food brought them by their parents. Their strong
beaks are sometimes very destructive to cages in
which they are confined ; and Mr. Yan-ell quotes
a passage from Mr. Townsend, on some of the
little mischievous tricks of these beautiful birds.
"My pets," says this gentleman, "would often
come to my table while I was wTiting, and carry
off my pencils, little chip boxes in Avhich I occa-
sionally kept insects, and other similar objects,
and tear them to pieces in a minute. Their mode
of operation is by first pecking a little hole ; in
this they insert their bill, and then split and tear
the object by the lateral force. When I treated
them, as I often did, with almonds in their shells,
they got at the kernels in the same manner ; first,

THE CROSSBILL. 317

pecking a liole in the shell, and then enlarging it
by wrenching off pieces by the lateral power."
These birds feed very voraciously, and in captivity
are remarkably tame, not caring for the presence
of strangers, but perpetually cheerful, and flut-
tering and jumping about in the most lively
manner ; sleeping in what would seem to us the
most uncomfortable position, by holding themselves
with their claws to the side of the cage.

In the wild state the crossbills are the most
unsuspicious of birds ; and until painful experience
has taught them the meaning of the sound of the
gun, they evince no terror at it. When they first
come to our plantations, they will hear the report
quite near them, and continue eating the fir-seeds,
as if secure from danger ; and even when footsteps
are approaching, will cling, in happy confidence,
to the bough, looking brightly and cheerfully at
the comer; and on the first arrival, will, when
fatigued, suffer themselves to be taken by the
hand, unresistingly. Even when some alarm has
been caused by the death of a companion by the
gun, the other birds will only retreat a little
farther into the green boughs, and one of their
number will, from the topmost branch, act like a
sentinel, and give timely warning of danger.

318 OUU NATIVE SONGSTERS.

The woodcutters of Thiiringia have a great
respect for the crossbills and their nests, on ac-
count of a superstition Avhicli they have respecting
them. The birds, when in captivity, are subject
to several diseases, such as swelling of the feet,
and weakness of the eyes. The mountaineer of
Thuringia believes that these poor, hapless birds
will take to themselves diseases which else would
fall upon himself or family, and therefore keeps
them in cages to avert calamity. He feels per-
suaded that a bird which has an upper mandible
turning to the right, will take the rheumatism or
cold from himself; while he is well assured that if
it turns to the left, his wife or daughter will escape
these evils, and they will become the lot of the
bird. Like many caged birds, the crossbill, too,
suffers from epilepsy ; and the Thuringian drinks,
in all good faith, the water left in the morning in
the little vase of the bird-cage, believing it to be
a certain means of preventing that disease.

The crossbill is a native of the northern countries
of Europe and Asia. It builds a nest of fine small
twigs and coarse moss, lining it with softer moss.
Its eggs are of greyish white, spotted and dashed
with red. Its song is described as consisting of
a few sharp strains.

-^

'l^^

THE BULLFINCH. 319

In tlie course of April and May, we may liear
in our woodlands or gardens or shrubberies, the low
piping notes of the Bullfinch* {Pyrrhula vulgaris).
The song is not a very melodious one, neither can
it be heard at any great distance ; yet tlie bird
must have a musical ear, and a good memory. No
bird has so great a facility as this for learning
music, and it can be taught to whistle to the tunes
of a German flute, and will often add to them a
few little graces from its natural song. Some
bullfinches can be trained to sing two or three
different airs, never at all mingling one with the
other; but much skill and patience are requisite
in thus educating it. A bird so accomplished is
very expensive, and as much as four or five pounds
is sometimes given for a well-trained bullfinch. At
Hesse and Fulda, little schools are formed for the
purpose of teaching the birds, and these supply
Germany, Holland, and England, with these

* The Bullfinch is about six inches in length. Crown of the
head deep black ; neck, shoulders, and back bluish-grey ; rump
white ; wings and tail black, the former crossed by a broad band
of white ; beak, face, and chin black ; sides of the neck, throat,
breast, and belly brick-red; lower parts white; feet purplish-
brown. The colours of the female are as usual less pure and
distinct.

320 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

musicians. '' No school," says Dr. Stanley, " can
be more diligently attended by its master, and
no scholars more effectually trained to their own
calling, than a seminary of bullfinches. As a
general rule, they are formed into classes of about
six each, and kept in a dark room, when food and
music are administered at the same time ; so that
when the meal is ended, if the birds feel disposed
to tune up, they are naturally inclined to copy the
sounds which are so familiar to them. As soon as
they begin to imitate a few notes, the light is ad-
mitted into the room, which still further exhila-
rates their spirits, and inclines them to sing." In
some of these schools the birds are not allowed
either light or food till they begin to sing. After
being thus taught in classes, each bullfinch is made
the sole charge of a boy, who plays his organ from
morning till night, while the superintendent of
the bird school goes his rounds, regularly, to
watch the progress of teacher and pupils. It seems
singular to those unused to birds, to find that the
bullfinches fully understand the scoldings or praises
which they receive from this class-master, and
which are distributed according to their deserts.
This training process is continued for nine months,

THE BULLFINCH. 321

by which time the bird has become so accustomed
to the airs which it has to perform, as to sing them
without mistake. Sometimes during the moulting
season, however, the poor little songster's memory
fails, and all the trouble bestowed on its education
becomes perfectly useless. Some birds are taught
by these methods to whistle three distinct airs, but
there are few which can do more than execute a
simple air, with perhaps some few notes as a
prelude.

But besides these acquired songs, the bullfinch
has many winning ways in captivity, and seems
well to comprehend the wishes of its possessor.
The writer once was accustomed to see a bull-
finch, which would usually sing at the bidding of
its mistress, unless strangers were in the room,
when it would persist in silence. Sometimes, after
a great deal of coaxing the bird would begin ; but
it seemed to have a mischievous pleasure in making
the audience wait; and would, after uttering the
prelude, again relapse into silence. When in very
obstinate moods, it would require from its mistress
some further inducement than mere caresses and
persuasions before commencing ; but on her fetch-
ing some little branch of a tree, or even a straw,

Y

322 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

or piece of thread, the bird would whistle its air
sweetly and loudly, then pause and peck the hand
of its mistress as if to claim its reward. Buffon
says that tame bullfinches Avhich have escaped
fi'om the aviary, and lived for a year at liberty in
the woods, have been known to return to the mis-
tress who had petted them, and never again to
leave her ; while others, w^hen forced to leave their
master, have pined and died of grief. A bull-
finch, too, which was much attached to its owner,
was subject to frightful dreams, under the influ-
ence of which it would fall from its perch, and dash
itself against its cage. But no sooner did it hear
the soothing tones which its master would address
to it, than it returned to its perch and to its sleep
in confidence and happiness. Bechstein says that
a bullfinch may be trusted to go awhile to the
woods, and come back again ; and that, especially
if its mate be left behind, the affectionate bird ^vill
assuredly return. If unkindly treated, or roughly
handled, it will die suddenly, or fall into fits. Sir
William Parsons records a most remarkable in-
stance of its attachment. He had one of these
birds which he had taught to whistle " God save
the King." He went abroad, leaving this bird

THE BULLFINCH. 323

in the care of liis sister, and on liis return, was
told that his bullfinch was very ill. With feelings
of sorrow. Sir William went up to the cage,
opened the door, put in his hand, addressed the
bird in the usual endearing manner, when it opened
its eyes feebly, shook its feathers, by a great effort
reached the outstretched finger of its master, feebly
piped " God save the King," and expired.

The bullfinch is no favourite with the gardeners,
for it destroys many early buds of our fruit-trees,
stripping the apples, pears, plums, gooseberries,
and cherries of the gardens ; and then going away
to the sloe bushes, and doing sad havoc in the
hedges. Its strong bill also enables it to get at
the seeds which lie in the cones of the fir, and in
the beech mast, and it eats corn, flax seed, and the
seeds of the nettles. It cannot be pleaded in be-
half of this, as of some other birds, that it selects
for its food such buds as have a worm enclosed
within their folds ; for it is tlie bud itself which is
the delight of the bullfinch, and thus in winter and
early spring it is sadly destructive to fruit lands.
A writer in the Magazine of Natural History
says—" Witnessing, a few springs since, the havoc
made by a number of bullfinches on two thriving

324 OUH NATIVE SONGSTERS.

young codlin-trees, that for several years had blos-
somed and borne profusely, and had, at that time,
every appearance of health, my curiosity was ex-
cited on this subject, and I then saw opened the
crops of two of these depredators. They were
wholly filled with the vegetable matter on which
the birds had been feeding, and which did not
appear to contain insects of any kind. Since that
time the codlin-trees have never grown with so
much vigour as they did previously, many branches
being so entirely stripped of buds that they never
recovered. This spring the trial was repeated, and
when the trees were in a more advanced state, in
fact, just as the leaves were beginning to expand,
and the blossom-buds to make their appearance,
a culprit bullfinch was killed in the very act, an
uns wallowed morsel yet remaining in his bill, to
bear witness against him. This was a single
flower-bud, with all its parts yet entire ; but those
buds with which its crop, the passage thence to the
gizzard, and the gizzard itself, were completely
filled, appeared to consist only of the future fruit
with the stamens and pistils attached to it, but
stripped of calyx and petals and of its internal
coveiing. The anthers, large in comparison with

THE BULLFINCH. 325

the rest, and nearly as large as they would have
been had the flower been suffered to open, were
even in that state curiously and beautifully appa-
rent ; and on a careful examination beneath a
microscope, no vestige of anything like disease or
insects could be discovered. Beneath the trees
themselves, the ground was thickly strewed with
the parts of the flowers rejected by these nice and
accurate dissectors, which parts invariably con-
sisted of the calyx and petals yet remaining at-
tached together. It appears to me that the buds
are destroyed for the sake of the interior parts of
the fmit and flowers, by these enemies to trees of
the Prunus and Pyrus kinds; as cowslips and
primroses are by the other birds, for the purpose
of devouring their minute and yet imperfect
seeds." A pair of bullfinches have been known
also to strip a considerable sized plum-tree of
every bud in the course of two days. Bishop
]'4lant notices its feeding on the fruits.

" Deep in the thorns' entangled maze,
Or where the fruit-trees' thickening sprays
Yield a secure and close retreat,
The dusky bullfinch plans her seat.
There, where you see the cluster'd boughs
Put forth the opening bud, her spouse.

326 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

"With mantle grey and jet-like head,
And flaming breast of crimson red,
Is perch'd with hard and hawk-like beak.
Intent the embrj'o food to seek ;
Nor ceases from his pleasing toil
The orchard's budding hope to spoil.
Unless with quick and timid glance
Of his dark eye your dread advance
He notice, and your search evade,
Hid in the thicket's pathless shade."

The shyness of the bullfinch renders it little
seen, and it would often escape notice, but for the
soft plaintive whistle with which it calls its com-
panions, or the low short twitter which it makes
while feeding. Yet it is a common bird in the
wooded districts of our land, coming also into
orcliards and gardens. It is a widely spread species,
and frequent in most of the northern countries of
Europe, only occurring in Southern Europe as a
bird of passage. It is especially common in the
mountainous forests of Germany. With us it
resides all the year.

The male and female bullfinches generally keep
together during vrinter, and may be seen at no
great distance from each other, helping themselves
from the budding trees. Their motions are some-
what less rapid than those of most of our small

THE BULLFINCH. 327

birds. The nest is usually built in May, and is
shallow structure, formed of small twigs, lined
with a few root fibres, and containing about four
slate-coloured eggs, spotted with purplish or pale
orange brown at the larger ends. Two broods are
reared in the year, and the nest is placed in the
sloe, hawthorn, or other low tree or bush. Some-
times the gooseberry is chosen, and occasionally
the bullfinch builds among the roses and their
green sprays.

This bird is also called Pope, Coal-hood, Tony-
hoop, Alp, Nope, or Monk ; and is the Bouvreuil
commun of the French, and the Blutfinh of the
Germans.

CHAPTER X.

THE SWALLOW TRIBE.

Every one who at all observes the mere external
aspects of nature, the changing seasons, the bud-
ding trees and the opening flowers, has become
acquainted with the Swallow. We all look with
pleasure on the fost swallow, which in April skims
through the air before us : and though, as the pro-
verb common to most European nations expresses
it, " One swallow does not make a summer," yet
is even the stray bird an indication of coming mul-
titudes, and of all beauties and delights associated
with that rich season. Even the inhabitant of
the city, far from the wild flowers and green
boughs which he loves so well, watches for the
coming of the first swallow, and thinks of the
lanes and meadows among which the pearly Avhite-
thorn is beginning to bud, and where the violet.

THE SWALLOW TRIBE. 329

and primrose, and anemone, and bluebell peep
tlirougli the liedges ; and where the cottage
chimney, which the swallows have long hannted,
rises above the garden plots, gay with polyanthuses
and daffodils, and sweet-scented wallflowers. And
when, a few days after, when even the last bleak
wind of winter has ceased to stir the woods, and
the birds, rejoicing in sweet vernal showers, come
in great numbers, we hail them with delight, and
wonder not that the prophet Jeremiah, while
lamenting the faithlessness of God's chosen people,
should remind them of the constancy of the migra-
tory birds, and say: "The stork in the heavens
knoweth her appointed time, and the turtle, and
the crane, and the swallow, observe the time of
their coming." We wonder not that the people of
Greece, ever loving the sunshine, ever alive to the
genial influences of nature, held a festival at
their arrival; and that children went about the
cities and villages in procession, receiving presents
at every door, and stopping to chaunt, to the
sound of musical instruments, a welcome to the
swallow. Well might Sir Humphrey Davy call
this bird the joyous prophet of the year, the har-
binger of the best season, leaving the green

330 OUH NATIVE SONGSTERS.

meadows of England in autumn, for the myrtle
and olive groves of Italy, or for the tall palms
of Africa, and coming to us as it does early in
April.

Nor is it alone because of its association with
spring, that we value the swallow tribe. At all
times the habits of these birds are interesting, their
motions and actions elegant. Skimming the air
in most graceful evolutions, continually crossing
each other's path, — yet never striking one against
another; wheeling on high without any confusion,
and on untiring wing, they are, though of sober
plumage, the most beautiful of birds. Now they
descend and skim lightly a little way above the
grass, or over the city's pavement, and we say that
rain is coming. Do the swallows come from their
height to tell us this ? Nay, but the air is already
hmuid and chill, and the nice perceptions of the
insect tribe have discovered it, though as yet w^e
feel it not, and their slight wdngs refuse to carry
them high in air, and the swallow knowing this
too, by liis sensations, or by that great power
of sight wdiich can alone conduct him safely wdth
rapidity, comes down to hunt for his insect-prey.

Many birds are very conscious of approaching

THE SWALLOW TRIBE. 331

atmospheric changes, and may well be relied on
as giving indications of these in various ways.
Nor is it the bird alone, which is thus influenced.
All animals, which living entirely in the air are
exposed to its variations, are far more cognisant
of these changes than we are. Thus the frogs
croak in the pool, and the cattle run wildly over
the meadow, and eat with unusual voracity their
meal from the grass ; the ants bring back the
chrysalides to their nest ; the earthworm comes
up to the surface, to respire the welcome moisture ;
and the very fishes in the pool seem to know that
rain is coming, and arise up to the surface. Yet
the shepherd cannot feel these changes, though he
may observe their prognostics, and see how the
leaves of the clover field are standing upright, and
the scarlet pimpernel is folding its petals, and
hear more clearly the usual sound of some distant
sheep-bell, or of some trickling waterfall, as it
comes down the slope of the hill.

We have four species of the Swallow tribe.
The Common Swallow [Tlirundo rustica), the
Martin {Hirundo uMcd)^ the Sand Martin [Hi-
rundo riparia)^ and the Swift [Cyjpselus opus),
all alike, in many of their habits, and all coming

332 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

with the spring, and leaving us in autumn for
warmer lands. The Swift is, as Bishop Mant has
described it, the latest in arriving. Writing on
the month of April, he says : —

" The threefold tribe of swallows haste
In thy first days, or ere to waste
Thy midmost course has run. Nor fails
He of the pinion's broadest sails
To track their path, their brother Swift
More late to come,

More prompt to quit his summer home
Is he of all the fork-tail'd race,
As if his wintry dwelling-place.
Hard by the stormy Cape, or far
In regions of the Eastern star.
Forbade across the tedious way,
Or quick approach, or lengthen'd stay."

The value to man of the services performed by
insectivorous birds, has been mentioned on an
earlier page, and to no birds do we owe more
gratitude for these uses, than to the swallow tribe.
The rapid flight, the determined vigour with which
these birds piu'sue the winged insects, render them
the most successful destroyers of a race which else
would injure our crops, our gardens, our orchards,
our green fields, and that, if left untouched for
the summer's day, would, in the night, eat vege-

THE SWALLOW TEIBE. 333

tation wlilch a month's growth would not repair.
The swallow never touches our fruits, nor asks
one grain of the ripening corn, or the store of the
granary. " The immense quantity of flies," says
the author of the Journal of a Naturalist, " which
are destroyed in a short space of time by one
individual bird, is scarcely to be credited by those
who have not had actual experience of the facts.
I was once present when a swift was shot, — I may
as well confess the truth — I was myself (then a
thoughtless youth) the perpetrator of the deed:
I acknowledge the fault in contrition, and will
never be guilty of the like again. It was in the
breeding season, when the young were hatched;
at which time the parent birds, as is well known,
are in the habit of making little excursions into
the country, to a considerable distance from their
breeding places, for the purpose of collecting flies,
which they bring home to their infant progeny.
On picking up my hapless and ill-gotten prey,
I observed a number of flies, some mutilated,
others scarcely injured, crawling out of the bird's
mouth; the throat and pouch seemed absolutely
stuffed with them, and an incredible number was
at length disgorged. I am sure I speak within

334 OUR ^'AT^'E songsters.

compass, when I state, that there was a mass
of flies, just caught by this single swift, larger
than, when pressed close, could conveniently^ be
contained in the bowl of an ordinary table-spoon ! "
It would be difficult to say why a marksman could
find pleasm-e in shooting a swallow. Its flesh
cannot be eaten, its plumage is useless, and so
innocent and useful are its habits, that if we liad
no love for elegance and grace, and no feelings of
humanity for the fowls of the air, it should be
spared on the score of its utility. But tliose who
shoot these, or other birds, in the spring, forget
the sufferings which await the nestlings deprived
of their parents; for these must die slowly of
cold and hunger : they forget that the Great Father
of us all cared for the animal race, when He gave
tliem to us that we should have dominion over
them. Not only have the inferior creatures been
so made as that their very existence is an enjoy-
ment to themselves, but the Law given to Moses
enjoins, in various places, kindness and considera-
tion both to the bird and the beast.

The swallow tribe take their prey on the wing,
and are ever delighting our eye as they do so,
though two only of the tribe have any powers of

THE SWALLOW TRIBE. 335

song. Of the common Swallow,* White, of Sel-
borne, remarks : " He is a delicate songster, and
in soft sunny weather sings both perching and
flying; on trees, in a kind of concert, or on
chimney-tops;" and though he who would make
sure of hearing the swallow had need be an early
riser, yet the low soft warble may be heard too of
an evening, as E/ichard Howitt says :

" We heard amid the day -break

Thy twitter blithe and sweet;
In life's auspicious morning,

The precious and the fleet :
We saw thee lightly skimming

O'er fields of summer flowers,
And heard thy song of inward bliss

Through evening's golden hours,"

Nor is it uninteresting to mark the busy swallows
in October, when they are preparing to migrate.
For many days they may be seen, gradually
gathering in greater numbers, sometimes in some
tall trees, at others thickening over the walls, or

* The Swallow is eight inches in length, of which the outer
tail-feathers measure five. Whole upper parts steel-blue; wings
and tail black ; all the tail-feathers, except the middle pair,
marked with white on their inner webs; forehead, chin, and
throat chestnut, bounded below by a band of blue; under parts
buff- white ; beak and feet black.

336 OUE NATIVE SONGSTERS.

on roofs of houses. How long it takes to get the
assembly together ! and, if we may infer anything
from the perpetual noise, how many consultations
seem necessary as to their mode of travelling, or
their future prospect! At length tlie clamour
ceases, and we look out on some morning to find
that the swallows are all gone, perhaps to the east
or west, to await the coming of some which may
yet be lingering from carelessness or infirmity; but
at lengtli they are all gone away to the sunny south,
and though some may remain on the southern shores
of Spain, yet Africa is their grand winter dwelling-
place. They have been often seen, both in autumn
and in spring, crossing the Mediterranean, some-
times taking a short rest on the rigging of the ships,
and even resting there a day or two to recover
strength. !Now and then they drop into the sea,
and go on again, refreshed by their salt-water
bath. But so strong is the desire at this season
to go to warmer regions, that the bird surmounts
all obstacles, and even forgets its young. Instances
have been known in which the second brood was
hatched so late in the season, that the swallows,
whose care for their young is usually most in-
cessant and affectionate, have gone and left their

THE SWAiLOW TEIBE. 337

nestlings to perish. Dr. Jenner observed a pair
of martins which thus forsook their unfledged
young, and returning in the following May to
their old nest, had first to remove from their
dwelling the skeletons of the hapless little birds.
Strong indeed must be the mysterious impulse of
migration, when it can overcome the powerful and
better understood principle of the love of its young.
Who that has long watched birds can doubt of
their mutual comprehension of that singular lan-
guage which seems to our ears but a confusion
of sounds? Any one who pays attention to the
habits of young nestling birds, can perceive that
the parent well understands the clamorous appeal
of its little ones ; and among some birds, as the
swallow, the mother bird while in the nest seems
continually chirping, as if holding a conversation
with her family, the young evidently being as
familiar with the notes of their parents, as the
latter know the voice of their children. The birds
which at early dawn twitter perpetually, or as-
semble in the trees and twitter and chirp all day
long among the boughs, have a meaning in these
utterances, which though not definitely understood
by us, yet convey even to our ears tones either of
z

338 OUK NATIVE SONGSTERS.

pleasure or displeasm-e. The song, if it tells of
love and its desire to please, is yet still more
evident of the bird's own happiness, and is perhaps
more dependent on his spirits and health than on
any other cause. The exultation of the hen, whose
loud cackle resounds far and wide, cannot be
mistaken; and no one can have watched an
assemblage of spaiTOws, without being conscious
of the quarrelling and scolding voices which are
evidently addressed to some one among the
number, which has offended them. So attractive
to all its own species is the call-note common to
each individual, that the birdcatcher uses it to
decoy others to his nests, and no fear of danger will
prevent numbers from assembling on a spot, where,
but for this, they would have escaped the snare.
So marked is this effect that the Hon. Daines
Bamngton observes, that if one half of a flock of
birds is taken, the other half will alight on the
nets and be taken too.

Whether the call-note of one species is regarded
by another seems doubtful, but a loud note of danger,
which gives warning of a bird of prey, or the
approach of a cat, is evidently understood by the
whole community of small birds. Let but the

THE SWALLOW TRIBE. 339

far-seeing eye of one swallow discover the owl in
the air above him, and a piercing shriek will be
uttered, which will call up not only all the swallows
and martins about him, but will, as Mr. Knapp
observes, be instantly understood by every finch
and sparrow, and its warning attended to. " The
instant," says this \vriter, "the signal of danger
is uttered, we hear the whole flock, though composed
of various species, repeat a separate moan, and
away they all scuttle into the bushes for safety."

But the habit of thus seeking shelter is not
invariable, for in some cases, when the swallow
shrieks its alarm, the whole tribe of swallows and
other small birds rush boldly to the scene of danger,
and they will sometimes with wing and beak attack
their formidable foe till some individual among them
falls a victim to its corn-age, and serves as a warning
to the others to quit the unequal combat.

Although no other birds make quite so loud a
chattering as the swallow before migTating, yet
something similar is heard among other tribes when
preparing for their autumnal voyage. The causes
of migration are involved in mystery, though the
want of proper food and a presentiment of coming
cold, are probably the chief inducements. The

340 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

remarks of M. Brehm, on the manner in wliicli it is
midertaken, are interesting. "Every bird," lie
says, " has its native country, where it freely re-
produces and remains part of the year, travelling
the remainder. Most birds spend half the year
at their home, and the other half in travelling.
vSome, particularly birds of prey, travel by day;
but by far the greater part travel by night, and
some perform their migration indifferently either
by day or night. They seem to pass the whole of
their migration without sleep, for they employ the
day in seeking their food, stopping in the places
where they are most likely to find it. They com-
monly keep very high in the air, and always at
nearly the same distance from the eartli, so that
they rise very high over mountains, and fly lower
among valleys."

The flight of birds generally has been estimated
at from fifty to a hundred-and-twenty miles an
hour, but supposing a swallow to fly at the rate of
ninety miles an hour, it would in little more than
thirteen hours reach Egypt. The old notion that
the swallows plunged under water and remained
there during the winter, is now quite exploded,
yet it was long believed by good naturalists.

THE SWALLOW TRIBE. 341

Proofs to tlie contrary have been obtained, not
only by the testimony of those who have seen
them while crossing the ocean, but by various
experiments made upon the birds. Some of these,
especially those made by Spallanzani, are so cruel,
that we feel that knowledge has been purchased at
too great a price. The 10th of April seems to
be established as the average time of their return
to our island, but this may be rather earlier
or later in the season, according to the weather.
As Mr. Broderip has observed, " the songsters
which visit us in the season of love, hope, and joy,
have very retentive memories," for the same pair
of birds will return to their old homes. A silken
thread attached to the leg of a swallow in the
spring, has served to prove that year after year
the birds sought their earliest dwelling, and pro-
bably came back to it all their lives. So fond are
they even of their old neighbourhood, that if the
nest is destroyed, they will build again in the
very spot.

The swallow seems to prefer the dwellings of
man as the place in which to build its nest, and
often selects such as are near water. In such
places, insects are most numerous; and here,

342 OUR Ts^ATIVE SONGSTERS.

too, it may find the portions of moist clay wMch
are brought from the borders of tlie stream, or
sometimes from the puddles in the street, or road,
and which, moulded into small pellets, are mixed
with straw and bents for the ■ framework of its
dwelling. This is saucer-shaped in form, and is
lined with feathers. The process of making the
nest is gradual, one layer only being laid on at a
time, and then left for hours to dry, before the
work progresses. The name of chimney swallow,
applied to our common species in several European
countries, indicates the spots most frequently
chosen; and the bird, taking possession in May or
June of some sleeping room or other unused
chimney, makes its nest in any nook or angle which
it can find. Sometimes an old wall offers a hole
in which the nest can be placed, sheltered from the
elements, and sometimes an empty room presents
a temptation too great to be resisted; while the
roof of an open barn or shed occasionally forms a
covering, or it is built among the rafters of some
outhouse, where the thatch is a protection from
rain and wind.

That the swallow is often a capricious architect,
might be proved by various anecdotes recorded by

THE SWALLOW TEIBE. 343

ornitliologists. White of Selborne mentions a pair
which built for two years together on the handle of
a pair of garden shears, which were hung up against
the boards of an outhouse, where the bird must
have had its nest . disturbed whenever that imple-
ment was wanted; while another built on the wings
of the body of an owl which happened to hang
dead from the rafter of a barn. " In the summer
of 1830," says a wi'iter in Loudon's Magazine of
Natural History, '' a pair of swallows commenced
their nest upon the crank of a bell- wire in the
passage of a farm-house at Crux Easton ; the one
end of which opened into a little garden, the other
into the kitchen, and the door of which towards
the garden was usually left open. The passage
was fifteen or eighteen feet in length, and the bell-
wire nearly at the extremity, towards the kitchen.
The farmer and his wife were so much pleased
with the sociability and confidence of their new
inmates, that they not only allowed their new
domicile to remain unmolested, but were par-
ticularly careful that free ingress and egress should
be always afibrded through the garden door. The
nest was completed, and a brood of young swal-
lows reared, which took wing.

344 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

^' In the autumn of the same year, the farmer
returning from shooting, with his gun loaded,
tlioughtlessly discharged it at a swallow, which he
killed. The circumstance passed without com-
ment, until the summer of the following year,
when from the absence of his old favourites it
occuiTcd to him that the poor bird so wantonly
killed must have been one of the pair.

" In the summer of 1832, a pair of birds, the
offspring, probably, of the former occupants reared
in the passage, were again observed frequenting
their old hamit. They first attempted to fix
their nest against a cupboard door, immediately
over the door leading into the kitchen; and the
farmer's wife, fearing it might be shaken down,
from the closing or opening of the door, (for it
was partly open when the nest was begun,) drove
a nail beneath to secure it in its position. How-
ever, the swallows did not approve of this inter-
ference; they forsook their nest, and commenced
a second over the kitchen door; but this they
could not secure. The thought now struck the
farmer, that if the nest of 1830, wliich still re-
mained on the bell-wire, were removed, the birds
would adopt their old situation. This was accord-

THE SWALLOW TKIBE. 345

ingly done. The pair immediately profited by the
farmer's suggestion; a nest was completed, and
an egg deposited in the short space of four days
from the commencement of the new work. While
the business of incubation was going forward, the
farmer's sheep-shearing was accomplished, and the
usual supper given to the labourers in the kitchen ;
but notwithstanding the confusion and smoke,
the constant opening and closing the door, the
parent bird never moved from her nest. The hay-
making feast arrived, when the young birds were
hatched ; and, again, amid the noise and confu-
sion, the old swallows unremittingly waited upon
their offspring. The nestlings took flight; but
until the period arrived for migTation, they con-
stantly retm'ned to the passage for the night. At
the beginning of the evening, they perched on
the edge of the nest ; and, as the night came on,
as if for additional warmth, they sunk down into
its interior. As the season advanced, and they
became full-feathered, they deserted the nest
altogether, and roosted on the bell-wire. Here
they perched during the conviviality of the har-
vest supper, perfectly regardless of the uproar;
and here I saw them perched for their night's

346 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

repose, when visiting Crux Easton on an evening
in the middle of September."

It is not only while they remain in the nest,
that young swallows are constant objects of the
solicitude of their parents. Much pains is taken in
teaching them to fly, arid to capture their insect
prey. For several days successively tlie young
birds are conducted up the shaft of the chimney
to its summit, and there they sit, surveying the
world around them, while their parents procure
and bring them food. Their next step in pro-
gress, is to take a short flight to some leafless
bough of a tree, and sitting there in rows, they
receive their meal from the older birds. Soon,
however, they learn to trust their strong wings,
and to wheel about in those graceful circles com-
mon to the tribe. Even now, however, they
cannot always secure the insects, but the parent
swallows dash into the winged circles, and bring
away the flies, or gnats, and convey them to the
mouths of their young charge.

The Martin* {Hirundo urhica), which comes to

* The Martin is about five inches and a quarter in length.
Upper parts glossy blue-black ; rump, chin, and whole under
parts pure white; beak black; feet clothed with grey down.

THE SWALLOW TRIBE. 347

US a few days after the swallow, has, also, a low
guttural and pleasing song. Trusting its nest, with
all its precious charge, immediately under our
very eaves, and in the corners of our windows, we
may often hear the gentle notes of the bird, and
watch the process by which the mud chamber is
gradually shaped into a comfortable and sheltered
dwelling-place, destined, probably, for rearing a
great number of young martins in the course of
successive summers.

The Sand Martin* [Hirnndo rijyaria)^ demands
but a short notice, for it cannot be said to sing,
though it utters some low notes which are rather
sweet. It has an ingenious mode of making itself
and its family very comfortable, and dwells with
many others of its species in little colonies, all of
them helping to mine their way into cliffs and
sandbanks, and placing the nest in these excava-
tions. The sharp, hard bill seems admirably
adapted for a mining instrument, and om* bird
uses it skilfully, as he hangs on with his strong
claws, gradually rounding the aperture, till it is

* The Sand Martin is four inches and three-quarters in length.
Upper parts dark brown; under parts white; a band of brown
crosses the breast : beak and feet dark brown.

348 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

exactly suited for the nest ; working on from the
circumference, and yet shaping it as well as if he
had mathematical instruments to guide his pro-
gress. This hollow burrow reaches horizontally to
a depth of about two feet, and at the very ex-
tremity is placed the nest of grass, made cosy and
snug by a warm lining of feathers. The eggs, like
those of the house martin, are white.

Every one knows that wonderful bird the Swift*
[Cypselus apus), \>w.t, alas! he is no singer; only
uttering a loud scream as he darts past us. Hence
in rural districts he is named " squeaker." He is,
indeed, the bird of the air, for he never alights on
the ground; for so long are his wings, and so
short his feet,t that he finds it impossible to rise
from an even surface, and cannot walk, but only
crawl over the earth. But his feet are not
intended for walking, but for clinging; and the
bird well knows how to use them for this purpose,
and hangs by sharp-hooked claws to the perpen-
dicular face of walls and houses. Well is this

* The Swift is seven inches in length. Whole plumage
bro%vnish-black, except a small patch of dull white on the chin ;
beak and feet black.

t The specific name of this bird, apus, means "footless."

THE SWALLOW TRIBE. 349

bird call the swift, for the eye can hardly follow
his rapid motion. In Palestine it is termed Hadji
or Pilgrim, and being the largest and the most
conspiciiotis of the swallow tribe in that land, it
is the type of the heraldic martlet, originally
applied in the science of blazon, as the especial
distinction of a pilgrim crusader, which was,
doubtless, borrowed from Oriental nations. This
is probably the bird alluded to by the Psalmist,
when longing for the communion of Avorship in
the sanctuary of Israel, he exclaimed, " Yea, the
sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow
a nest for herself, where she may lay her young;
even thine altars, 0 Lord of Hosts, my King, and
my God."

The swift lives on the wing; eats, drinks, and
collects materials for its nest on the wing, never
resting except during darkness, and when the
family duties demand a patient sitting. Its nest
is made in holes in steeples, or under the eaves of
the old house, or church, or turret ; and two eggs,
white as ivory, are deposited in it. In France the
bird is termed Martinet de IfuraiUe, and in Paris
and some other places, it is called Le Juif.

Our jet-black bird seems to pass a busy life

350 OUR NATIVE SONGSTERS.

here, and directly he arrives may be seen pre-
paring for the nest. All the time of his short
stay he is incessantly occupied in catching his
prey, and after rushing distractedly through the
air for about fourteen or fifteen weeks, goes off
again to other climates.

Tlie usual time of the arrival of this bird is
early in May, and by the middle of August it is
gone; though now and then some straggler is
left a little longer. The swallows are all widely
distributed, being found, apparently like the in-
sect tribe on which they feed, in almost every
part of the world.

THE END.

LONDON :
R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL.

1. ,.,,., ..M^"^ REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY

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