104 BIEDS 



BlEDS AND THEIR SlNGING 



I think a point was missed in your article (Spectator, 

 February 23) when you spoke of the ' ' chorus you will 

 hear ... in the summer twilight." This chorus is, in 

 my experience, far less than the one you will hear if you 

 care to rise at dawn any time, say, from mid- April to 

 mid-May. The rush of song at such a time is something 

 to be remembered. I first realized this in the late 

 " seventies," when, in a Shropshire village vicarage, I 

 was obliged to go for a doctor on April 20 at 3 a.m. I 

 was astonished at the vehemence of the chorus. The 

 blackbird in particular at such a time (as I have often 

 noticed since) sings at a pace which he never equals at 

 other times. He simply pours out his notes, and gives 

 you the idea that he is dancing along the bough at the 

 same time, or, at least, far from still. The thrush, too, 

 though always leisurely in his note, at dawn seems mar- 

 vellously copious in notes. I wonder if many of your 

 readers have ever noticed what a long period of song the 

 thrush has. I have heard him here as early as Sep- 

 tember 5 and (in Kent) as late as July 23. The black- 

 bird is rarely heard before January or after June, as far 

 as my experience goes. With anything like a trained 

 and observant ear how much the voices and notes of birds 

 tell us sounds that often seem quite lost upon the 

 generality of even country people. As I sit in my study 

 in spring and summer months with the window open 

 how well I can tell all that is going on. The peculiar 

 note of the thrush on such occasions tells me that my cat 

 is dangerously near a nest in a bush by my window, and 

 the wailing of the little robin conveys the same message. 

 I know when my peacock is spreading his tail without 

 going to see, and the guinea-fowls' clatter says a stranger 

 is about ; and the same strange clatter just after they 

 have settled in the roosting tree tells you of a fine day 



