HYMNS TO OURSELVES 145 



it. Service is held. There are solemn strains, 

 reverential attitudes, and " Out of the deeps," and 

 "Cometh from afars," go up, like hymns, from 

 the lips of officiating High Priests — the successive 

 Presidents of the Society. It is church, in fact, 

 with man and religion inside it. Outside are the 

 animals and science. In such an atmosphere field 

 natural history does not flourish. You may not 

 bring dogs into church. That, however, is what I 

 would do, and it is just what the Society ought to 

 do. With man for their sole theme they will 

 never, it seems likely, get beyond a solemn sort of 

 mystic optimism. If they want to get farther they 

 should let the dogs into church. 



Whilst starlings are thus flying to the roosting- 

 place, they often utter a peculiar, or, at any rate, a 

 very distinctive note, which I have never heard them 

 do, upon any other occasion, except in the morning, 

 on leaving it. It is low, of a musical quality, and 

 has in it a rapid rise and fall — an undulatory sound 

 one might call it, somewhat resembling that note I 

 have mentioned of the great plover, which, curiously 

 enough, is also uttered when the birds fly together 

 in flocks. But whilst there is no mistaking the 

 last, this note of the starlings is of a very elusory 

 nature, and I have often been puzzled to decide 

 whether it was, indeed, vocal or only caused by the 

 wings. Sometimes there seems no doubt that the 

 former is the case, but on other occasions it is more 

 difficult to decide. I think, however, that it is a 

 genuine cry, and, as I say, I have only heard it upon 

 these occasions, nor have I ever heard or read any 

 reference to it. It is usually stated that starlings 



