1 6 The Field Naturalisf s Qitarterly Feb. 



appear as successive distinct stages in advance. One writer 

 went so far as to allude to the robin and starling "striking 

 up" in October or November — a term which seems lament- 

 ably inappropriate to these birds then. And the autumnal 

 singing of a few chiffchaffs and willow-wrens (one or two per 

 cent, perhaps), which may very probably be birds without off- 

 spring that year, can hardly be cited as evidence of the 

 nature of the chorus of robins and starlings at that season. 



Of hedge birds, the hardiest spring singer seems to be the 

 hedge-sparrow, which will sing in a cold wind when even 

 the robin and wren are silent. The wren is fairly fluent in 

 winter, but, like the blackbird later, seems to prefer making a 

 noise with call-notes or alarm-notes to singing. In extreme 

 cold the nuthatch is perhaps the noisiest of our small birds. 

 When skating I have often heard its full call, " twutt, 

 twuttutt," at a time when even the blackbirds had been 

 starved into silence. Possibly the violent exertions of the 

 former bird, which drives its bill against the bark of a tree — 

 and with the whole weight of its body — from five to seven 

 times in a second, may tend to keep it warm and cheerful. 

 Few small birds can peck so hard or so fast as this ; and the 

 vigour and rapidity thus displayed — doubtless long since 

 gradually evolved from slower and less frenzied action — has 

 its analogue in a loud and quick repetition of the bird's cry 

 later in the season, or in spring. The blows may fall almost 

 rapidly enough to cause a rattling ; and the cry may be 

 repeated a dozen or twenty times so quickly as to cause a 

 sound like that of a railway guard's whistle, and almost as 

 loud. As in most other birds, this greatest development of 

 the song is not immediately attained ; and it is equally 

 entertaining and instructive towards the end of winter to 

 notice the gradual extension of the " twuttutt " to the full 

 length above indicated. And further, this note, after all, is 

 not the bird's love-note (which is a soft squeak), but partakes 

 in some measure of the artistic nature of the blackbird's 

 song, though the art here displayed does not rise above the 

 level of sheer unmodulated repetition. 



Far different are the strains of those fluent winter singers 

 the robin, thrush, and skylark, though the two last may be 

 heard improving their songs daily — weather permitting. A 



