The Natural History of Selborne 327 



tuneful passeres express their complacency by sweet modula- 

 tions, and a variety of melody. The swallow, as has been 

 observed in a former letter, by a shrill alarm bespeaks the 

 attention of the other hirundines, and bids them be aware 

 the hawk is at hand. Aquatic and gregarious birds, especially 

 the nocturnal, that shift their quarters in the dark, are very 

 noisy and loquacious ; as cranes, wild-geese, wild-ducks, and 

 the like ; their perpetual clamour prevents them from dis- 

 persing and losing their companions. 



In so extensive a subject, sketches and outlines are as 

 much as can be expected ; for it would be endless to instance 

 in all the infinite variety of the feathered nation. We shall 

 therefore confine the remainder of this letter to the few 

 domestic fowls of our yards, which are most known, and 

 therefore best understood. And first the peacock, with his 

 gorgeous train, demands our attention ; but, like most of the 

 gaudy birds, his notes are grating and shocking to the ear : 

 the yelling of cats, and the braying of an ass, are not more 

 disgustful. The voice of the goose is trumpet-like, and clank- 

 ing ; and once saved the Capitol at Rome, as grave historians 

 assert : the hiss, also, of the gander, is formidable and full 

 of menace, and "protective of his young." Among ducks 

 the sexual distinction of voice is remarkable ; for, while the 

 quack of the female is loud and sonorous, the voice of the 

 drake is inward and harsh, and feeble, and scarce discernible. 

 The cock turkey struts and gobbles to his mistress in a most 

 uncouth manner ; he hath also a pert and petulant note 

 when he attacks his adversary. When a hen turkey leads 

 forth her young brood she keeps a watchful eye; and if a 

 bird of prey appear, though ever so high in the air, the 

 careful mother announces the enemy with a little inward 

 moan, and watches him with a steady and attentive look ; 

 but, if he approach, her note becomes earnest and alarming, 

 and her outcries are redoubled. 



No inhabitants of a yard seem possessed of such a variety 

 of expression and so copious a language as common poultry. 

 Take 'a chicken of four or five days old, and hold it up to a 



