WHY CALLED ALAUDA LULU. 183 



the Woodlark is local not so generally heard from its softness, 

 must almost be listened for to be distinguished, and has not any pre- 

 tensions to the hilarity of the former. This little bird sings likewise 

 in the spring ; but at that season the contending songsters of the 

 grove, and the variety of sound proceeding from everything that has 

 utterance, confuse and almost render inaudible the placid voice of 

 the "Woodlark. It delights to fix its residence near little groves and 

 copses, or quiet pastures, and is a very unobtrusive bird, not uniting 

 in companies, but associating in its own little family parties only, 

 feeding in the woodlands on seeds and insects. Upon the approach 

 of man, it crouches close to the ground, then suddenly darts away, as 

 if for a distant flight, but settles again almost immediately. This 

 Lark will often continue its song, circle in the air a scarcely visible 

 speck, by the hour together ; and the vast distance from which its 

 voice reaches us in a calm day is almost incredible. In the scale of 

 comparison it stands immediately below the Nightingale in melody 

 and plaintiveness ; but compass of voice is given to the Linnet, a bird 

 of very inferior powers. 



Cuvier gave the name Alauda lulu to the Woodlark, 

 because in the winter season, when these Larks congregate 

 in the open field in search of food, instead of their melodi- 

 ous warble, they utter a low melancholy cry, resembling the 

 syllables lu-lu. In Miss Waring's ' Minstrelsy of the Woods,' 

 the following verses occur in allusion to this wailing kind 

 of note : 



Dost thou love to hear the song birds of spring ? 



Are their notes as voices of joy to thee? 

 Then fly to the groves where the Woodlarks sing, 



Rejoicing once more in their vernal glee. 

 The spring-time is come, the winter is past, 



And the Woodlarks' songs are cheerful once more ; 

 Their sorrows are fled with the wintry blast, 



And soft-flowing lays through the woodlands they pour, 

 Forgetful how lately the winter wind blew, 

 And they sung the sad notes of their plaintive lu-lu. 



With kindred and clan they mingle the strain, 



And love by the birds of their race to abide ; 

 And they come to their forest haunts again, 



To build their low nests by the green hill side. 

 When the stormy winds unroof their retreat, 



And wither the wreaths of their summer bowers, 

 Then afar in the valley the wanderers meet, 



And seek to beguile the sad wintry hours ; 

 While, chilled by the night wind, and bathed by the dew, 

 They chant in soft concert their plaintive lu-lu. 



