52 BIRDS IN TOWN AND VILLAGE 



him down the sky: for not until the sun has set 

 and the wood has grown dark does the singing 

 cease. 



On emerging from the deep shade of the 

 beeches into the wide grassy road that separated 

 the wood from the orchards and plantations of 

 fruit trees, and pausing for a minute to look down 

 on the more than half-hidden village, invariably 

 the first loud sounds that reached my ear were 

 those of the cuckoo, thrush, and blackbird. At 

 all hours in the village, from early morning to 

 evening twilight, these three voices sounded far 

 and near above the others. I considered myself 

 fortunate that no large tree near the cottage had 

 been made choice of by a song-thrush as a sing- 

 ing-stand during the early hours. The nearest 

 tree so favoured was on the further side of a 

 field, so that when I woke at half-past three or 

 four o'clock, the shrill indefatigable voice came 

 in at the open window, softened by distance and 

 washed by the dewy atmosphere to greater purity. 

 Throstle and skylark to be admired must be heard 

 at a distance. But at that early hour when I sat 

 by the open window, the cuckoo's call was the 

 commonest sound; the birds were everywhere, 



