82 MY LIFE AS A NATURALIST 



through the leafy vista, feeding and singing as it goes. Though 

 its notes are not so varied as those of the Blackcap, perhaps they 

 are even mellower and sweeter, and I shall never forget once, 

 and once only, hearing a company of Garden Warblers singing 

 in chorus just after they had arrived in an Oak wood, where, as 

 a boy, I delighted to ramble. The song, although so rich, can 

 easily be unheard by those who do not listen for the utterances 

 of birds, and I have frequently watched a passer-by to ascertain 

 if the song attracted attention. As a rule, no notice whatever 

 has been taken of the dulcet madrigal within earshot, and I have 

 been left alone to assimilate the sights and sounds around me. 

 This Warbler is more local in distribution than the Blackcap, 

 but where both species occur it is difficult, even for the expert, 

 to correctly ascertain one singer from the other. I have been 

 deceived many times, in spite of the fact that, as a rule, Blackcaps 

 incorporate in their song the scratchy notes of the Greater White- 

 throat. This, so far as I am aware, the Garden Warbler never 

 does. 



The Tree Pipit is certainly one of my favourite song birds, 

 and I like it because it has the invariable habit of coming back 

 to the same place each year. Even when the bird is away 

 wintering in Africa, I look -longingly at its watch-tower at the 

 summit of a tall Poplar that it uses in the glad days of Summer, 

 and wish for the bird's return to its old haunt. Once it has 

 returned, no time is lost in pairing, as the male bird undertakes 

 its fascinating song-flights the whole day long for the set purpose 

 of obtaining a female partner. It is known as the Titlark in 

 many country districts, and, being a Pipit, it is closely related to 

 the better known Lark. Some of its notes, too, resemble those 

 of Shelley's " blithe spirit," but they are louder and more forceful 

 in the Tree Pipit, and are uttered under different circumstances. 

 Sometimes it sings on the ground, a clod of earth, or from its 

 watch-tower in bush or tree, always near the summit, but, to 

 see. and hear it at its best, one must wait until the bird throws 

 itself into the air, and then mounts several feet, until such time 

 as, having acquired the impetus, it descends with motionless 

 wings, gathering strength of song as it proceeds. I never tire of 

 watching this bold adventurer, for it is linked up with some of 

 my happiest memories of days well spent in Nature's w r onderland. 



Although such a reveller in the air, and such a dweller in the 

 tree-tops, this species, like the Lark, does not altogether scorn 

 the ground, whither it descends to nest and feed. It possesses 



