32 ON THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NIGHTINGALE. 



it has ever been the theme of poets, and the delight of all those 

 who have music in their souls ; and I have introduced it, as the 

 song itself comes into notice, as a sort of climax to the development 

 of the vernal season. Of the colours and specific characters of the 

 bird, we have, at present, no occasion to treat minutely. Its 

 form is very similar to that of a Robin, though rather larger, and 

 longer in all its proportions ; and its common attitude and general 

 expression are also much the same as in that bird. As observed 

 upon the ground, where it finds the greater portion of its subsis- 

 tence, its manner of progression exactly resembles that of the Thrush 

 tribe, and very much that of the Robin, moving about by regular, 

 deliberate hops, with its plumage generally much puffed, and the 

 tail mostly raised higher than the points of its wings ; now and 

 then this is jerked, at which time a deep iack is sometimes uttered, 

 which, as Bechstein remarks, may be exactly imitated by smacking 

 the tongue : this note is always expressive of satisfaction and plea- 

 sure, and is sure to be uttered on the occasion of finding a favourite 

 morsel. It is, in general, an extremely quiet, sedentary species, 

 retiring very much from observation, and, in confinement, will 

 often sit for hours together upon its perch, with its plumage puffed, 

 and resting on one leg, though, at times, it is sufficiently active. 



Pugnaciti/ and rivalry of song. — The Nightingale is at all sea- 

 sons a solitary and pugnacious bird, each selecting a little district 

 to itself, and attacking all of its own species that invade its ter- 

 ritory ; in this, reminding us of the Robin Redbreast, to which it 

 is somewhat allied — indeed, sufficiently so to breed with it in con- 

 finement. It also resembles that bird in the habit of two or three 

 often singing against each other ; not warbling simultaneously, in 

 the manner of Linnets and others, but each replying to another's 

 strains. M. Bechstein observes of them, in confinement, that " some 

 Nightingales dislike being in the window, and prefer a dark corner 

 of the room ; others like the light and the sun. * * * Some 

 will sing only when they are alone, while others like to perform 

 alternately with a neighbour ; but they never sing so loud and well 

 when there are many together in the same room. Perhaps jealousy 

 is the chief cause of this," [or rather, I would say, they dislike being 

 interrupted.] " On these occasions," he continues, " the first that 

 begins generally maintains the superiority ; the others sing only 

 when he stops, and this but seldom, or in an under tone. Some 

 are so sulky that they will not sing at all, and, from their silence, 

 are occasionally mistaken for females, and dismissed the room ; but 

 no sooner do they find themselves alone, than they sing aloud." 



