i6 IN A CHESHIRE GARDEN 



was all that I could see, but the head was 

 plainly that of a thrush. While I watched 

 I could distinctly see him turn his eye down 

 on me, and he was off in an instant; but 

 though I only got a glimpse as he flew away, 

 there was no mistaking the flight of a missel- 

 thrush. It seemed curious to me at the time 

 that he should be singing at all then, and that 

 he should be so shy about it. 



Song-thrushes, or throstles as they are 

 called in Cheshire, are always plentiful, but 

 not always to the same extent. They were, 

 for instance, very much thinned in numbers 

 by the hard winter of 1895, but in a couple 

 of years they abounded again, and I heard 

 people complain of their night's rest being 

 spoilt, there were so many and they sang so 

 early and so loud. From April to June they 

 sing almost incessantly, from earliest light 

 until quite dark. They begin at three in the 

 morning, or even earlier, and sing their 

 loudest for about an hour; then there seems 

 somewhat of a lull, but they soon start again 

 in full chorus, and go on singing more or less 

 throughout the day, sometimes until past 

 nine at night. In 1905, on the longest day 

 of the year, I woke at 2-30 a.m. to hear a 

 throstle in full song just outside my window, 

 and at 9-30 p.m. a throstle, almost certainly 

 the same bird, was singing in the same place. 

 I have often wondered how, with so much 

 time devoted to musical exercises, they 



