Letters, Extracts from Correspondence, Notices, ^c. 409 



ask your leave to describe another and a less satisfactory pur- 

 suit, in case the faint indications I am able to give of the strange 

 song heard may suggest some reflections on European warblers 

 and their varied powers. The 1st of May, 1863, ended in a 

 lovely still evening, tempting the dusty world to come and enjoy 

 the approaching cool. About half-past five I made my way to 

 a neighbouring valley with my sister. The sea on our left was 

 almost motionless as we passed, and far out over its glassy sui'- 

 face multitudes of Swallows were skimming, employed as busily 

 as if they were among the gnats haunting some inland water. 



The valley was soon reached, and there insect-life seemed at 

 its full, as the armies of day Ephemera whirled and eddied in 

 company with the earliest of the night-fliers. The soft bills of 

 the Sylviadce were feebly snapping in all directions, and the 

 variety of these birds was at once confusing and full of excite- 

 ment. Suddenly I was startled by a call closely imitative of the 

 best notes of the Oriole, which quickly changed into weak piping 

 trills, and then once again to a long succession of melancholy 

 whistling cadences producing a strange weird eff'ect, totally un- 

 English. These latter sounds were so unbird-like, that on re- 

 joining my sister I found her fully convinced that I had attempted 

 to attract the stranger by luring his attention with a varied 

 whistle. I certainly thought that the bird must have been a 

 mocker, and I much regret that the thick masses of lemon- 

 leaves baffled all my attempts to gain any view of the songster. 

 May 5th, 1863, has a very pleasant memory attached to it for 

 me, as on that day I was surrounded by a flight of Bee-eaters, all 

 playing their airy antics overhead. These birds proclaim their 

 coming from afar by constant piping cries, and are quite unmis- 

 takeable when seen near; their curiously curved bills, bright 

 colours, and finely pointed tails giving them an appearance to 

 which I can make no comparison. Their voices quite fill the 

 air, and the stranger has only to listen for a sound very similar 

 to that uttered by a flock of chickens, but coming from ever- 

 changing distances with a deceitful enchantment like the song 

 of Ariel. It was also in the beginning of May that I saw a 

 Spotted Cuckoo {Cuculus c/landarius) ; but I heard no cry, and 

 can only state that the bird has some general resemblance to a 



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