THROUGH THE YEAR 135 



which the pied wagtail revels in. There are three 

 or four acres of it, quite free of weed and close-shorn 

 from April to November. Through the summer it 

 is thick with blackbirds and thrushes from dawn till 

 dark ; and they seem in June, when the young are 

 fledged, almost as a flock scattered over it. In 

 autumn for a month or so, these birds spend part 

 of the day in the hawthorn bushes in the park, 

 where the berries are ripe. But the pied wagtails 

 are about the lawn through most of the day. 



I heard the wagtail first calling sharply, and then 

 I thought I caught a snatch of his song as I break- 

 fasted. Half an hour later I saw one singing ten 

 yards away. The song is distinctly sweet, but most 

 of it is in a key so low that one has to be quite near 

 the bird to find the merit. I have said it reminds me 

 of the song of the swallow, but hearing it again, 

 and at closer quarters, I am struck with the warbler 

 strain in it. It is quite of that genre, and a bit of it 

 now and then might easily pass for the little under- 

 song of the lesser whitethroat in June. 



This wagtail sang as he tripped along the rim of a 

 large earthenware vase on the lawn. We must see 

 the wagtail sing to know the merit of the song. The 

 lively motions of the singer, his frisky little flights 

 now and again from the singing perch to the gravel 

 path and back are part of the thing. Then his 

 plumagerenewed, I suppose, by an early autumn 

 or late summer moultis fresh and neat. His throat 

 and breast suggest a black cravat and white shirt- 

 front. I was near enough to see that, during each 



