RING-OUZEL AS A SONGSTER 133 



that we have come to look on it as the one and only 

 blackbird in existence. A thrush, it is true, but 

 modified and raised as far above those olive-coloured 

 spotty birds as the lovely and graceful grey wagtail 

 is above the modest little creeping pipits it springs 

 from. That we have been told of other blackbirds 

 in many lands does not matter, since what we hear 

 about such things does not impress us — we forget 

 and practically disbelieve it. The sight of a ring-ouzel 

 thus deprives us of an illusion. 



I was not affected in that way at the Peak, having 

 met the bird a long time before in other parts of the 

 country, but its song had remained unknown and I 

 had come to hear it. Nor had I long to wait for that 

 pleasure. On my way to the small hovel of a farm- 

 house, on Axe Edge, where I had arranged to stay, 

 while walking in the old forsaken road, worn very 

 deep and thickly bestrewn with loose stones like the 

 bed of a dry mountain torrent, I caught the sound 

 of a bird voice unknown to me, and peeping over the 

 bank at the roadside, beheld the ring-ouzel within 

 twenty yards of me, sitting on a stone wall, emitting 

 his brief song at intervals of less than half a minute. 



After listening for about fifteen minutes till he 

 flew off, I went on my way rejoicing at a new ex- 

 perience and marvelling that this simple little bird 

 melody, which one would imagine any child could 

 imitate or describe to you so that when heard after- 

 wards it could easily be identified, had yet never 

 been described in the ornithological books. Such 

 a statement may seem incredible considering the 



