THROUGH THE YEAR 243 



REED BUNTINGS 



Through the winter there is scarcely a more forlorn 

 looking small bird than the reed bunting. It is 

 songless at all seasons, I think. Compared with it 

 the corn bunting with a wheezy stutter is a sort of 

 singer, the yellowhammer quite a performer, and the 

 cirl bunting almost a musician indeed, the note of 

 the cirl at its best and strongest is really pleasant to 

 the ear. Whereas all the sound the reed bunting 

 makes is a thin cry wholly without merit. A pair 

 of wandering reed buntings on a leafless tree in the 

 water meadows crying in a disconsolate way " wheet, 

 wheet " can put the last touch of cheerlessness to 

 the darkest, chilliest winter afternoon. 



But in April the reed bunting is another bird. He 

 has not got a new voice, but he is distinctly a pretty 

 and sprightly bird with his very black bonnet and his 

 white collar. Look at a reed bunting on a platform 

 of cut and floating weeds caught in a river backwash, 

 and his claim to beauty is clear at once. I have 

 watched him hopping about the weed platforms, 

 and even when a grey wagtail the smartest bird, 

 with the yellow wagtail, that flies by an English 

 stream alights beside him, he is not completely 

 outclassed. His brown striped back is so finely 

 done, and at this season he looks turned out brand 

 new. 



The grey wagtails have already made their nests 

 ere April is out, and are warming their eggs to life. 

 I am sure of this, for I saw a hen grey wagtail come 



