228 THE REDBREAST. 



six reddish mottled eggs, and he has often, nay, I may say, usually two 

 broods in the season. One reason may be that it is placed on the ground, 

 and, therefore, more accessible to destruction, although the quantity of 

 young birds seen about in summer almost negative this, and I take the 

 more true reason to be that he is the most pugnacious, perhaps, of any 

 bird, and certainly much stronger than any of his own size. Only catch 

 one, and see if it does not require all your address to hold him in your 

 hand, that is, without such pressure as would injure him. I particularly 

 remember a gentleman taking a fancy to catch a number of adult wild 

 birds, (not of prey of course,) and turn them into an aviary for experi- 

 ment. The result was that the most furious contests took place, ending 

 in the Redbreast remaining master of the field, and the wren escaping 

 between the wires; for the rest, they fared but indifferently. 



It is unnecessary particularly to describe this bird; who does not call to 

 mind his large intelligent eye and finely-formed, head, his taper dark legs 

 and pert movements? Like all insectivorous birds, his bill is slender and 

 dark, with linear nostrils, and his feathers fine, with a good substance of 

 down of a dull greyish hue. The red (so called) covers his fore-throat, 

 breast, and forehead, extending round the eyes; the belly is dull white, 

 and at the shoulder of each wing is a small bit of grey, which has 

 the prettiest conceivable effect. The young, until the first moult, differ 

 so much in colour as to be easily taken for some other bird by ignorami; 

 but these must be so, however, is very clear, if they do not recognise 

 the shape, the air, and the sharp call-note, by which he is so well known. 

 Spring is the season which most usually calls our attention to the fea- 

 thered tribes, but this bird seems to remind us, when winter drives away 

 our gay songsters, or makes them silent, that the woods are not entirely 

 deserted, for he is there. 



"The feathered flocks, 



Which hard bestead by hunger's urging call, 



Cast off their shyness, and with crested cock 



And all his train, divide the farm-yard spoil. 



The Redbreast, to a proverb, bolder yet, 



Haunts the abodes of men, for scattered crumbs, 



And e'en at open door and window lights, 



Or raps upon the pane of casement closed, 



With bill importunate; whilst man himself 



Respects the confidence, and sacred keeps 



The pledge of amity, and spares the bird." 



In speaking of the song of this bird, Gilbert White, the Selborne 

 historian, goes somewhat out of his way to meet a position which is 

 scarcely insisted upon, I think; namely, that Redbreasts are autumn 

 songsters; asserting what no one will dispute, that all through the spring 

 and summer their voices are drowned in the general chorus, and in the 



