SPRING BIRD LIFE 13 



awakens, and delivers his lay, clear, sweet, jubi- 

 lant, continuous, among the lower branches. 

 Single notes, double notes, notes in strings of 

 three and four are poured forth with a gush, and 

 verve which thrill the listener. Nor does this 

 represent the variety, much less the music of a 

 song, in which spring itself seems to be finding 

 utterance. 



Yet another thrush follows on, adding his rich 

 contralto to the mavis' glad treble. He who has 

 passed along the lanes, and by the wood copses, 

 after a shower has cooled the air, freshened the 

 young leaves, and washed the May-flower into a 

 purer white; and listened to the outburst of 

 blackbird music, has been present at one of the 

 most delightful of nature's concerts. 



The mavis sings the moment he falls in love. 

 The blackbird, more practical, waits till he sees 

 the first egg in the nest. When satisfied that 

 there can be no mistake, he trolls out a few care- 

 less notes, and finishes up with a lazy twitter. 



The mavis is a morning bird. His song is a 

 glad matin, breathing the hopefulness of daybreak. 

 The blackbird belongs to the evening, as his 

 very colour would suggest. His song is a vesper, 

 according with the soberness of twilight. His 



