192 THE BIOLOGY OF BIRDS 



not sing, just as there are many birds that do not make a 

 nest, but singing and nesting are characteristic of birds, and 

 the simpHcity or complexity of their expression is of minor 

 moment. But what an extraordinary gamut there is in 

 bird song. " It seems impossible," said Professor Newton, 

 " to draw any but an arbitrary line between the deep booming 

 of the emeu, the harsh cry of the guillemot (which, proceeding 

 from a thousand throats, strikes the distant ear in a confused 

 murmur like the roar of a tumultuous crowd), the plaintive 

 cry of the lapwing, the melodious whistle of the widgeon, 

 ' the cock's shrill clarion,' the cuckoo's * wandering voice,' 

 the scream of the eagle, the hoot of the owl, the solemn 

 chime of the bellbird, the whip-cracking of the manakin, the 

 chaffinch's joyous burst, or the hoarse croak of the raven." 



To the scientific ear the ostrich's roar (which may be 

 mistaken for a lion's) sounds like the coo-rooing of the dove. 

 The shearwaters, which the greatest of our scholar-naturalists 

 has identified with the birds into which Diomedes' com- 

 panions were transformed, express in their cries, like the 

 wailing of little children (" lachrymosis vocibus "), the same 

 fundamental motif as the lark does, in its " lithesome, sibilant, 

 and unceasing " song. Both in shearwater and lark, however, 

 the vociferousness has passed beyond the confines of sex. 



One of the strangest of cries is that of the Stone -Curlew, 

 " a weird discordant clamour, with something uncanny and 

 blood-curdling about it, as though an inferno had suddenly 

 been let loose on earth. We call them ' shriek owls ' on this 

 account, and it is not a bad name. Their wild cries ringing 

 out loud and clear, then suddenly ceasing and intensifying 

 the silence of the still summer night, are something suggestive 

 of murder and sudden death." 



Biologically regarded, the song of birds is marked by its 

 specificity — a cold-blooded way of saying that it is expressive 

 of a distinct individuality. Each bird-personality expresses 

 itself in its own way. Thus according to John Burroughs : 

 " The type of the lark's song is the grass, where the bird 

 makes its home, abounding, multitudinous, the notes nearly 

 all alike, and all in the same key, but rapid, swarming, 



