CH. XXIX. CUCKOOS. 143 



croaking with a voice of brass. By the end of May 

 or the beginning of June every field is full of them ; 

 and the noise they make during the night time, 

 or after a shower of rain, is incessant. By the 

 middle of August they become quiet ; and the corn 

 being high, they are then seldom seen. Before the 

 crops are carried they have almost entirely disap- 

 peared, having left the country quietly and unseen. 

 Sometimes during the shooting season a landrail 

 rises in some very unexpected place, and they are 

 then as fat as it is possible for a bird to be. On 

 their first arrival also they are in good condition, 

 till the business of breeding commences, when they 

 become comparatively lean. 



Though the voice of the landrail is per se so pe- 

 culiarly harsh and grating, there are few birds whose 

 note falls more pleasantly on my ear — associated 

 as it is with the glad season of spring and summer. 

 The monotonous cry of the cuckoo has nothing 

 delightful in it beyond recalling to the mind pleas- 

 ing ideas of spring and woody glades ; yet I believe 

 every one listens to this bird with pleasure. From 

 seeing and hearing so many of them about the wild 

 rocks and glens of Scowrie and Assynt, the cuckoo 

 now always brings that rugged district before my 

 eyes, instead of the tranquil groves where I for- 

 merly had seen it. The nest, which of all others 



