THE SONG THRUSH 3 
THE SONG THRUSH 
TURDUS MUSICUS 
Upper parts brown tinged with olive; wing-coverts edged and tipped with 
reddish yellow; cere yellowish; throat white in the middle, without 
spots; sides of neck and breast reddish yellow with triangular dark 
brown spots; abdomen and flanks pure white with oval dark brown 
spots; under wing-coverts pale orange yellow; bill and feet greyish 
brown. Length, eight inches and a half, breadth thirteen inches. Eggs 
blue with a few black spots mostly at the larger end. 
THE Thrush holds a distinguished place among British birds, 
as contributing, perhaps, more than any other to the aggregate 
charms ofa country life. However near it may be, its song is never 
harsh, and heard at a distanceits only defect is, that it is not nearer. 
It possesses, too, the charm of harmonizing with all other pleasant 
natural sounds. If to these recommendations we add that the 
Thrush frequents all parts of England, and resorts to the surburban 
garden as well as the forest and rocky glen, we think we may 
justly claim for it the distinction among birds, of being the last 
that we would willingly part with, not even excepting its allowed 
master in song himself, the Nightingale. Three notes are often 
repeated: Did he doit? Shut the gate, Kubelik. 
The food of the Thrush during winter consists of worms, insects, 
and snails. The first of these it picks up or draws out from 
their holes, in meadows and lawns; the others it hunts for among 
moss and stones, in woods and hedges, swallowing the smaller ones 
whole, and extracting the edible parts of large snails by dashing 
them with much adroitness against a stone. When it has once dis- 
covered a stone adapted to its purpose, it returns to it again and 
again, so that it is not uncommon in one’s winter walks to come 
upon a place thickly strewn with broken shells, all, most probably, 
the ‘chips’ of one workman. As spring advances, it adds 
caterpillars to its bill of fare, and as the summer fruits ripen, it 
attacks them all in succession; strawberries, gooseberries, cur- 
rants, raspberries, cherries, and, on the Continent, grapes suit 
its palate right well; and, when these are gone, pears and apples, 
whether attached to the tree or lying on the ground, bear, too often 
for the gardener, the marks of its beak on their ripest side. Dur- 
ing all this period it relieves the monotony of its diet by an occa- 
sional repast on animal food; as, indeed, in winter it alternates 
its food whenever opportunity occurs, by regaling itself on wild 
berries. Yet, despite the mischief which it perpetrates in our 
gardens by devouring and spoiling much of the choicest fruit—for 
your thrush is an epicure, and tastes none but the ripest and best 
—the service which it renders as a devourer of insects more than 
compensates for all. So the gardener, if a wise man, will prefer the 
scare-crow to the gun, the protecting net to that which captures. 
I know two adjoining estates in Yorkshire. On one the gar- 
