iiB HILLSIDE, ROCK, AND DALE 



of the wood has its music or love-talk of the birds. 

 As evening shades deepen, one by one of these leave 

 off and enter the bushes below. When all have 

 ceased and the pigeons have finished their soft 

 cooing, and when the darker sky is sprinkled with 

 dots of twinkling gold, we hear a few hurried notes 

 from a nightingale then silence settles over all. 



Presently, however, his loud notes ring out with 

 their deep passion and fascinating charm. The male 

 birds arrive about April iQth, and a week later the 

 hens also come. The bird in the silver birch is 

 singing sweeter far than he has sung on previous 

 nights, for he well knows that it is by his song he 

 will win his mate. Not very far away is another 

 nightingale he is singing against his rival but the 

 one near is far and away the champion songster of 

 these woods. When darkness comes on he stops 

 singing ; there is a slight rustling in the bushes 

 beneath, and he drops to these and enters the cover. 

 Kurr-kurr, we hear, muttered in a muffled tone; pui- 

 pui is the answer. The hen again calls kurr-kurr, 

 and the male in reply sings a few notes, but uttered 

 in so low a tone that they can barely be heard. 

 This is his love-talk, and the hen nightingale answers 

 the pretty things he is saying by repeatedly calling 

 kurr-kurr. Because of the darkness we lose much 

 of this love scene. For half an hour or more they 

 hop silently about the bushes, and then the male 



