42 BRITISH BIRDS 



not to feel and to express regret that so good and distinctive and 

 old a name for this familiar bird should have been replaced 

 by a name which is none of these things. Song-thrush is an un- 

 suitable name, for the very good reason that we have several 

 thrushes, all of them songsters. By most persons the bird is 

 simply called 'thrush,' which is neither better nor worse than ' song- 

 thrush.' 



The throstle is one of the smaller members of the genus, being 

 about a third less in size than the noble stormcock. In form, 

 colouring, motions, language, and habits, he is a very thrush. It 

 cannot be said that his music is the best — that, for instance, it is 

 finer than that of the blackbird. The two songs differ in character ; 

 both are good of their kind, neither perfect. The throstle is, 

 nevertheless, in the very first rank of British melodists, and it is 

 often said of him that he comes next to the nightingale. The 

 same thing has been said of other species, tastes differing in this 

 as in other matters. It is worth remarking that most persons 

 would agree in regarding the nightingale, song-thrush, blackbird, 

 blackcap, and skylark, as our five finest songsters, and that these 

 all differ so widely from each other in the character of their 

 strains that no comparison between them is possible, and there is 

 no rivalry. 



The only species which may be called the rival of the song- 

 thrush is the missel- thrush, as their music has a strong resemblance. 

 That of the stormcock has a wonderful charm in the early days of 

 the year, when it is a jubilant cry, a herald's song and prophecy, 

 sounding amidst wintry gloom and tempest. Heard in calm and 

 genial weather in spring, the throstle is by far the finer songster. 

 His chief merit is his infinite variety. His loudest notes may be 

 heard half a mile away on a still morning ; his lowest sounds are 

 scarcely audible at a distance of twenty yards. His purest sounds, 

 which are very pure and bright, are contrasted with various squeal- 

 ing and squeaking noises that seem not to come from the same 

 bird. Listening to him, you never know what to expect, for his 

 notes are delivered in no settled order, as in some species. He has 

 many notes and phrases, but has never made of them one completed 

 melody. They are snatches and portions of a melody, and he sings 

 in a scrappy way — a note or two, a ^phrase or two, then a pause, as 

 if the singer paused to try and think of something to follow ; but 

 when it comes it has no connection with what has gone before. 

 His treasures are many, but they exist jumbled together, and ho 



