CHAPTER XVII 



THE SEDGE-WARBLER 



Before the last rime-frosts have gone, the brave little cock 

 sedge-warblers come across the sea in small parties, and 

 any day after the middle of April you may awake to hear 

 either the cuckoo or this quaint little fellow, with his hoarse 

 canary-like voice, singing from some little clump of reed in 

 a dike, from some islet of bramble, or from some hedge near 

 by, his song, chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck, changing 

 his note to a click, click, click, and then to a soft wheet, 

 wheel ; and if you watch him, you will see him fly up into 

 the air, then spread his wings, and sail softly down, like a 

 great brown moth, into the stuff. Should you whistle to 

 him, he will try and imitate you, and, should you stone 

 him, he will sing the more cheerily. Blow high or blow low, 

 come rain, come storm, he will sing, by night and day, his 

 never-ceasing little carol, so characteristic of the Broadland 

 — that song which, when you hear it far away from Norfolk, 

 recalls vividly the lazy rivers and idle lagoons. 



About a week after the males arrive the females appear — 

 little brown shy birds, to whom the males sing, chasing them 

 along the reeds and hedgerows, flying up singing into the 

 air some twenty yards, and sailing prettily down, still sing- 

 ing and generally showing off; but should you approach, 

 they will drop into the stuff on sight of you, and sing on 

 in a subdued voice, for they are shy or suspicious. Should 

 you approach too closely, a hoarse tut-tut greets you ; 

 and if you flush them, they go flying down the stuff or 

 hedgerow, and dart into a snug corner some thirty yards 



