MY FAVOURITE SONG BIRDS 81 



at concealment, and, when once located, can be heard and seen 

 to great advantage. 



One day, to my immense surprise, I discovered that I could 

 start a Nightingale singing by making an attempt to mimic a 

 few of its long-drawn-out notes. A real feathered Nightingale 

 close by took up the challenge, mistaking my notes, of course, 

 for those of a rival bird. I was hugely delighted, as the reader 

 may well imagine, having studied birds for so long a time. I 

 then went the round, that is, I visited all the Nightingale's haunts 

 with which I was acquainted, and was fortunate enough to start 

 the male bird singing in every instance ! Very often the male 

 crept cautiously towards me in his excitement, chattering and 

 scolding as he came nearer and nearer, and, as I gradually 

 worked him up, he poured out a perfect torrent of vehement 

 notes. On one occasion, three male birds flew into the open 

 where I stood, all attracted by the strange challenge which I 

 had uttered ! When they discovered the culprit, they quickly 

 returned to their chosen retreats. 



Under ordinary circumstances the bird should at least be 

 heard in song from mid-April until mid-June, but some years it 

 ceases its minstrelsy before June, although I sometimes manage 

 to encourage a solitary individual to respond to my summons 

 when the Roses are a -bloom. I regularly practise this bird- 

 calling nowadays, and have had some remarkable successes 

 with the Nightingale. 



The Nightingale undoubtedly resorts to singing for the purpose 

 of attracting a partner in the same way as our Song Thrushes^ 

 Skylarks, Chaffinches, and other song birds, and when once a 

 female has been wooed and won, and the serious business of life 

 commenced, the male bird's passionate outbursts of song soon 

 become less conspicuous, as his time is occupied in helping to 

 construct the nest, and attending to the requirements of his 

 little consort when she, solicitous mother, is engaged incubating 

 her olive-green eggs. 



Next comes the Garden Warbler, a little-known bird that visits 

 large gardens, woods, commons, and other places when Summer 

 is a-coming in. It is a shy cousin of the Blackcap and Nightingale, 

 but delights in hiding its sober body among Oaks and Sycamores, 

 where, apparently, it searches with success for insect prey. It 

 is a busy-body among bird folk, and seems for ever hunting for 

 food. It has little leisure even for stopping to sing, pouring out 

 a continuous gurgle of rich, musical notes as it threads its way 



