JUNE. 93 



THE NOISE OF SUMMER. 



June 12. The country is more noisy at this 

 season than at any other. The birds are still in full 

 song, excited by the jealous rivalries of nesting-time ; 

 and, in addition, most of the common gregarious 

 kinds have already turned out upon the world one 

 brood of vociferous youngsters, who add their voices 

 to the general hubbub. From every corner of the 

 garden comes the fat chirp of the young sparrow, 

 persistently protesting that he wants more grubs, 

 but loth as yet to go and find them for himself. 

 Along almost every hedge, too, you are preceded by 

 the jarring chorus of family parties of young missel 

 thrushes, or the sibilant alarm notes of immature 

 starlings, who are already collecting in small flocks. 

 These, when reinforced by the later broods, will 

 form squadrons of the vast army corps of starlings 

 which assemble in autumn at selected halting-places, 

 filling the air with the roar of myriad wings, and also 

 filling it all round their roosting-places with an un- 

 speakably sickly stench. It is worth while taking a 

 good look at a young starling in summer. In his 

 plain Quaker suit of darkest neutral tint, with no hint 

 of colour in his bill, he is totally unlike his parents, 

 but he represents them as they used to be before 

 sexual selection gave them their primrose-yellow 

 bills for summer wear and the fine gloss of purple 

 and green upon their speckled plumage. 



