892 SONG 
These are meagre details, but they amount to more than we 
know of the Dodo, while perhaps no species has had its osteology 
examined on so great a scale as the Solitaire. 
SONG plays a most important part in the economy of Birds, 
though the word in a treatise like this has to be used in a general 
sense, and not limited to the vocal sounds uttered by not more than 
a moiety of the feathered races which charm us by the strains they 
pour from their vibrating throat (¢/. SyYRINX),— strains indeed denied 
by the scientific musician to come under cognizance as appertaining 
to his .art, but strains which in all countries and in all ages have 
conveyed a feeling of true pleasure to the human hearer, and 
strains of which by common consent, in the Old World at least, 
the NIGHTINGALE is the consummate master. It is necessary in 
a scientific spirit to regard every sound made by a Bird under 
the all-powerful influence of love or lust as a “Song.” It seems 
impossible to draw any but an arbitrary line between the deep 
booming of the Emu, the harsh ery of the GUILLEMOT (which, 
proceeding from a thousand throats, strikes the distant ear in a con- 
fused murmur like the roar of a tumultuous crowd), the plaintive 
wail of the LAPWING, the melodious whistle of the WIGEoN, “ the 
Cock’s shrill clarion,” the Cuckow’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, on the one hand, and the bleat- 
ing of the SNIPE or the drumming of the Ruffed GROUSE, on the 
other. Innumerable are the forms which such utterances take. 
In many birds the sounds are due to a combination of vocal and 
instrumental powers, or, as in the cases last mentioned, to the latter 
only. But however produced—and of the machinery whereby 
they are accomplished this is not the place to speak—all have 
the same cause and the same effect. ‘The former has been already 
indicated, and the latter is its consummation. Almost coinstan- 
taneously with the hatching of the Nightingale’s brood, the song of 
the sire is hushed, and the notes to which we have for weeks 
hearkened with rapt admiration are changed to a guttural croak, 
expressive of alarm and anxiety, inspiring a sentiment of the most 
opposite character. No greater contrast can be imagined, and no 
instance can be cited which more completely points out the purpose 
which Song fulfils in the economy of the bird, for if the Nightin- 
gale’s nest at this early time be destroyed or its contents removed, 
the cock speedily recovers his voice, and his favourite haunts again 
resound to his bewitching strains. For them his mate is content 
again to undergo the wearisome round of nest-building and incuba- 
tion. But should some days elapse before disaster befalls their 
callow care, his constitution undergoes a change and no second 
