138 FRESH FIELDS 



one needs to woo them more; they are less recently 

 out of the wilderness; their songs have the delicacy 

 and wildness of most woodsy forms, and are as plain- 

 tive as the whistle of the wind. They are not so 

 happy a race as the English songsters, as if life had 

 more trials for them, as doubtless it has in their 

 enforced migrations and in the severer climate with 

 which they have to contend. 



When one hears the European cuckoo he regrets 

 that he has ever heard a cuckoo clock. The clock 

 has stolen the bird's thunder; and when you hear 

 the rightful owner, the note has a second-hand, 

 artificial sound. It is only another cuckoo clock 

 off there on the hill or in the grove. Yet it is a 

 cheerful call, with none of the solitary and monkish 

 character of our cuckoo's note; and, as it comes 

 early in spring, I can see how much it must mean 

 to native ears. 



I found that the only British song-bird I had 

 done injustice to in my previous estimate was the 

 wren. It is far superior to our house wren. It 

 approaches very nearly our winter wren, if it does 

 not equal it. Without hearing the two birds to- 

 gether, it would be impossible to decide which was 

 the better songster. Its strain has the same gush- 

 ing, lyrical character, and the shape, color, and 

 manner of the two birds are nearly identical. It 

 is very common, sings everywhere, and therefore 

 contributes much more to the general entertainment 

 than does our bird. Barrington marks the wren 

 far too low in his table of the comparative merit 



