BIRDS IN A VILLAGE 37 



singers scattered all about their rushy island were 

 small, fantastic, human minstrels, performing on 

 a variety of instruments, some unknown, others 

 recognizable — bones and castanets, tiny hurdy- 

 gurdies, piccolos, banjos, tabours, and Pandean 

 pipes — a strange medley! 



Interesting as this concert was, it held me less 

 than the solitary singing of a sedge-warbler that 

 lived by himself, or with only his mate, higher 

 up where the stream was narrow, so that I could 

 get near him; for he not only tickled my ears 

 with his rapid, reedy music, but amused my mind 

 as well with a pretty little problem in bird psy- 

 chology. I could sit within a few yards of his 

 tangled haunt without hearing a note; but if I 

 jumped up and made a noise, or struck the 

 branches with my stick, he would incontinently 

 burst into song. It is a very well-known habit 

 of the bird, and on account of it and of the very 

 peculiar character of the sounds emitted, his song 

 is frequently described by ornithologists as "mock- 

 ing, defiant, scolding, angry," etc. It seems clear 

 that at different times the bird sings from different 

 exciting causes. When, undisturbed by a strange 

 presence, he bursts spontaneously into singing, the 



