LANGUAGE OF BIRDS 



Many people indeed, deeply interested in bird 

 life, tell us that they have the greatest difficulty 

 in disentangling the notes heard in the spring 

 chorus. In this case, their knowledge of the 

 birds that may be in their immediate neighbour- 

 hood must be seriously curtailed. 



An observer to whom every note brings instant 

 recognition, tends to rely upon the ear rather 

 than the eye. Few birds are silent, but many 

 are invisible, or are indistinguishable, in the 

 distance. 



As one rests in some grassy hollow by the river 

 side, it is quite easy to become aware of the 

 presence of well-nigh every bird in the locality 

 without opening the eyes. At first, certain 

 obvious notes — the cuckoo's and the corncrake's 

 pre-eminently — detach themselves from the 

 silence. Then we are aware of a fainter back- 

 ground of sound. From the upper air comes 

 the recurrent twitter of the swallow and house- 

 martin, overborne by the shriller scream of the 

 swift. A little party of grey linnets go by, and 

 quite distinct from their harp-like notes, comes 

 the delicate tinkle of the lesser redpoll. In the 

 far distance, we mark the cawing of rooks, the 

 faint singing of larks, the hissing of a nesting 

 starling, and the intermingling notes of a thrush 

 and blackbird. The smaller warblers are never 

 far away : the churring song of the sedge-warbler 

 in the willows, and the melody of the willow- wren, 

 dying dreamily away, are close at hand, and are 

 backed by the more sonorous voice of the black- 

 cap, in the recesses of the wood beyond. From 

 the bend of the stream comes the pipe of the sand- 

 piper, and the gurgling notes of the dipper blend 

 with the rippling of the water over the stones. 

 For a moment the startling " karuch-karuch " 

 of the waterhen overbears all the other sounds, 



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