70 ODD HOURS WITH NATURE 



than their mad and reckless devotion to cocoanut, 

 for which they are ready to forget the dangers 

 of both men and cats. Even to the robin, which 

 can feast upon a worm, the opening of the frozen 

 ground is much less of a summer reality than to 

 the thrush. For though worms are very fine in 

 their way, and provide an excellent and substantial 

 basis of a meal, there are infinitely finer things 

 in the insect world shortly to be unsealed. Insects, 

 however, must wait upon vegetation, and so far 

 life has hardly made a move. There are catkins 

 on the willow, but not even the adventurous lesser 

 celandine has shown a blossom. 



The most pleasing result of March sunshine 

 is the sudden stimulus it gives to the song of 

 birds. Even in hard frost the tuning of the 

 orchestra had proceeded. Blackbird and thrush 

 have been tentatively trying their notes, and the 

 starlings have been chattering in competition with 

 the sparrows. But with the first real spring day 

 the blackbird essays a full song. These early- 

 songs of both blackbird and thrush are by no 

 means the perfect flute-like utterances we shall 

 hear as the season advances. There are broken 

 notes and halting phrases. The songster seems 

 conscious of effort. He goes back upon defects, 

 repeats halting passages, and gradually rises to 

 elaborate combinations, becoming more and more 

 wrapped up in himself as he develops his own 

 powers as a musician. There is little doubt that 

 the birds listen to one another, learn from one 

 another, and deliberately, even passionately, com- 

 pete. Thus, to an attentive listener, a still bare 



