CHAPTER XV. 



THE SONGS OF BIRDS. 



DURING the spring and summer of 1874 especially, 

 and at all favorable opportunities since, my out-door 

 studies were largely confined to particular phases of bird- 

 life, rather than to their habits generally. Most promi- 

 nent among these was that of singing, and its relation to 

 the other utterances of birds ; for I had been long under 

 the impression, and since am fully convinced, that a bird's 

 song bears just the same relationship to its various chirps, 

 twitters, and calls, that singing with mankind bears to 

 ordinary conversation. 



Early in the morning of any bright May day, passing, 

 on my lookout for new arrivals among the migratory 

 birds, along some woody slope glistening with dew and 

 glorious in floral decoration, I am greeted by a loud 

 chirp! In an instant a hundred melodious voices are 

 hushed, and not until I have remained quiet for several 

 moments is the concert resumed ; then the bird that gave 

 this warning call seeks some more elevated perch, and, 

 with head erect, he again takes up the strain. Another 

 and another songster joins in the chorus, and again the 

 woods ring with the united voices of thrashes, wrens, spar- 

 rows, and warblers beyond count. 



It may be objected, at the very outset, that all are not 

 singing birds, and the fact of non-singing birds outnum- 

 bering the others disposes effectually of my theory. 



