74 THE VOICES OF HIUBS. 



startled by it, and have been at first at a loss to account for the sound. 

 Then, if a large bird happen to fly past, what a significant cry of warning 

 the cock utters; and how all the stray hens and chickens immediately take 

 shelter; this is so direct in its character and effects that there is no mis- 

 taking that it is understood as well as if it said "Beware, a Hawk is 

 near," or any other analogous sentence of warning. Then there is the 

 rejoicing when the egg has been laid, in which the cock and sometimes 

 the other hens so readily join; and last, but not least, the fuss and arrange- 

 ment and the "talk" that is going on whilst the arrangements for the 

 night are being made; truly it is worthy studying, and I have often done 

 so with as much entertainment as curiosity. 



And this reminds me that this cry of warning is, I think, the com- 

 monest portion of the conversation of birds. Listen to the loud cries of 

 all small birds when a Hawk is in the vicinity, particularly of the Swallow 

 tribe; call to mind as you walked by the hedge-row in summer how the 

 harsh chatter of the Whitethroat sounded from the thickness of the brake, 

 and how the inward note of the Bullfinch was heard amidst the evergreen 

 foliage. The Common Sparrow has a peculiarly warning cry, short and 

 brief as it is; and I have often remarked how almost certainly you may 

 know whether it is a wet morning, before you open your shutters, by the 

 peculiar clamour which these birds make on such occasions; it is not easy, 

 of course, to discover why this is, but it has an uncomfortable sound, as 

 if they were very ill at ease, and disliked their tails getting so very wet; 

 for, be it remembered, all moisture runs down them, and I have often 

 shot birds just after a wet day, when they were as dry as bones — except 

 the tail. In fact from the time the bird breaks the egg this language 

 is kept up, and it is notorious how the return of the mother to the nest 

 is welcomed; next, what cries of rivalry and anxiety are heard, faint though 

 they be; and next the gradually subsiding sound that betokens as much 

 as anything can betoken, that the morsel has been received, and has given 

 satisfaction. 



There is another thing which, to the observer of nature, is as well known 

 as all these, namely, the difference which is perceptible in spring from other 

 seasons in the "voices of birds;" this, of course, is almost wholly confined 

 to our native birds, for the others are gay gentlemen, who only, with us, 

 revel in the sunshine; and therefore we know little or nothing of their winter 

 habits, that is in a wild state; whilst those that are strictly ours, we have 

 an opportunity of watching, if we feel so disposed, at all seasons. The 

 wary Sparrow, the taciturn Greenfinch, the Golden-crowned Wren, and 

 every songster with which we are familiar, have spring notes and manners, 

 springing from that mysterious influence which domestic cares and objects 

 BO unerringly excite; and upon this it is quite unnecessary to dilate. 



I 



