48 LIFE AND SPORT IN HAMPSHIRE 



and the Voice is up, without being stirred. It is 

 as if there were some subtle virtue in these things 

 entering us through hidden doors. We cannot lay 

 hold of them and write them down or say them ; 

 they are volatile and elusive. So I doubt whether 

 the charm of this speckly thrush loudly singing in 

 the beech tree at dawn is so simple as at first thought 

 it may seem. But we can note an impression or 

 two the song makes on us. These liquid sounds 

 are perfectly attuned to the unworn day ; they put 

 a finishing touch of freshness to the hour which is 

 everything that is fresh. Wintry dawns, when the 

 thrush sings so bold and loud, often break through 

 a very grey sky, whilst at intervals the pane is 

 streaming. Open the window between blustery 

 showers, and there is nothing in the feel of the 

 air or the look of the dun earth to distinguish the 

 winter from some mild March morning. 



In February, I think, the thrush begins to get 

 his "peebur" note. Of song thrush phrases, this 

 one of the three peeburs is the most familiar, and, 

 at its perfection in spring and summer, the choicest. 

 After the three peeburs, to me the most familiar 

 thrush phrase is that one which sounds like "petty- 

 bird, petty-bird, petty-bird," or " pretty-bird, pretty - 

 bird, pretty-bird," uttered, I think, quicker, and for 

 sweetness of tone not so remarkable. 



The pure and most beautiful peebur passage in 

 the thrush's song is not taken up by the starlings 



