THE SYLVIID^ OF SOLWAY. 139 



eggs. In the nursery grounds about Dumfries, where there are 

 some hundreds of acres so occupied, the Whitethroat is a very 

 familiar bird. Breaks of young trees, of ahnost any sort, that 

 have attained a height of two feet or more, but especially those 

 of Thorns and Larch, Oaks and Privets, are certain to have 

 one or more pairs in each. Either when building the nest or 

 feeding young, a few minutes observation will show anyone 

 where the nest is, as the old birds are constant in their visits 

 to it. Freedom from molestation will doubtless account for this 

 absence of shyness. And when the period of brooding comes, 

 the nest can be found almost as easily, for the non-sitting bird 

 is constantly in attendance within a few yards. At this time 

 the male seems to be a living embodiment of the idiocy and 

 clownishness that characterise the males of all the animated 

 creation when under the influence of the mysterious emotion 

 of love. He will fly straight up and descend perpendicularly, 

 spread his tail, puflf out his head feathers, make grotesque 

 movements with his wings, all the while jerking about, and 

 uttering disjointed, chattering fragments of song which are any- 

 thing but musical in our ears, but that doubtless charm the 

 mind and solace the bosom of his devoted brown-coated little 

 mate, brooding down in the herbage where the sunshine is filter- 

 ing through the foliage. Occasionally he will compose himself 

 and rest from his capers sufficiently to sing a song devoid of 

 any well-balanced melody, but which, at any rate, comes from 

 a full heart of joy. 



All the livelong sununer days are occuj^ied in searching for 

 insects, and great quantities of the lepidopterous larva^ are con- 

 sumed. When the early fruit ripens, a few currants and rasps 

 are taken, more by way of a corrective to a flesh diet than for 

 any mere feeding purpose. 



The Whitethroats come to us in almost full song, from 

 late in April till almost the end of May, and they are then 

 in full and bright plumage. After nesting is over the moult 

 takes place, and no greater contrast is possible than betwixt 

 the bright, clean, and tight plumage they wear on arrival and 

 tlie dirty, dilapidated, and disreputable dress they possess in 

 August. It always seems to me that many of the adults leave 

 us before completing their moult; but, be that as it may, they 



