SPRING BIRD LIFE 23 



hillside, will be almost sure to enclose one in 

 April. Throughout June, his song is, perhaps, the 

 commonest of woodland, and even wayside sounds. 

 His only rival is the chaffinch; and one would 

 need to count, in order to make quite sure which 

 has the pre-eminence. The northern finch, and 

 the southern warbler thus meet on the same 

 branch, and seem to be engaged in a friendly 

 contest. For the first few notes, it is not easy 

 even for the practised ear to tell which is singing ; 

 and then the chaffinch waxes louder, and ends 

 in the characteristic vigorous flourish ; the effect 

 of which becomes, after a few repetitions, dis- 

 tinctly monotonous. 



The willow-wren's is not a song. It has neither 

 tune, nor character of any kind. One must be 

 contented to recognise ; but can neither define, nor 

 reproduce it. There is nothing to lay hold on ; 

 only an impression. It is disembodied melody. 

 Many a time have I leaned against the trunk, 

 and tried to fix it in some words or symbols, which 

 would recall it when it had passed; and I have 

 always failed. It rises from silence in a few 

 sharp notes, which open out ; and dies into silence 

 again, so that one cannot say, there it ended. It 

 is the liquid flow, the inexpressible sweetness, that 



