216 BRITISH BIRDS. 
the hawthorn, and the wild rose. The Song-Thrush is not so much a fruit 
feeder as the true Ouzels. He eats a few of the wild fruits of the woods, 
such as the blackberry, raspberry, and wild strawberry, and even visits 
the garden in cherry-time ; but his food is far more animal than vegetable. 
The Song-Thrush is a large feeder on the snails whose pretty shells are 
found in almost every hedgerow. In some retired situation you may not 
unfrequently find little heaps of shell-fragments near large stones and 
under the hedges. These shells have been broken by the Song-Thrush to 
obtain the snails within them, and are a silent proof of the bird’s usefulness. 
This bird obtains much of its food amongst the withered leaves and marshy 
places in woods and shrubberies, and in autumn frequents the turnip- 
fields and cabbage-beds in search of snails and grubs. At this season of 
the year the fields of white turnips especially abound with Song-Thrushes, 
and you may sometimes flush them almost at every step. These birds are 
on migration, are only resting here on their journey, and in a few days at 
most will be again on their way to their winter-quarters. In hay-time the 
Song-Thrush frequents the newly mown grass-lands near its favourite 
haunts in search of worms and insects. In all parts of the field they 
may be seen, some sitting upon the newly mown swathes, others digging 
away amongst the short herbage. To see them now, the inexperienced 
observer would think them gregarious birds; but such is not the case, 
and, as soon as its wants are supplied, each returns to its haunts again, 
alone and solitary as it came. 
The Song-Thrush sings very early in the year, his rich and varied notes 
commencing as soon as he arrives in his old haunts. From this time 
forward he warbles incessantly up to the moulting-season in July, when, 
by the way, birds of the year may often be heard making attempts at song. 
Dixon writes of the Song-Thrush :—“In Great Britain the ‘Throstle’s’ 
song is the favourite music of the country, as well known as it is dear to 
the hearts of all who have opportunity of listening to its strains. Amongst 
all the ranks of our feathered musicians we cannot find a bird whose 
melody is so pleasing and varied as that of the ‘ Throstle.’ His notes may 
be said to be almost endless in variety, each note seemingly uttered at the 
caprice of the bird, and without any perceptible approach to order. The 
Song-Thrush warbles throughout the day; but morning and evening are 
the times that his melody seems the best, and when he sings in largest 
numbers too. Stray, gentle reader, into his haunts at the dawn of day, 
when the first streak of morning appears glimmering over the eastern 
horizon, and surrounding objects are beginning to assume a more decided 
outline against the grey morning sky; then you will be greeted with his 
few first notes, his first attempt at music since the previous evening. 
Gradually it swells into a lovely song, and is carried for half a mile or 
more along the valley by the gentle zephyrs of early morn. Shortly you 
will hear another from a neighbouring tree; another and another are 
