THE REDWING. SI 



A similar practice may be observed in autumn, 

 among older birds. During the season of moult- 

 ing, the woods are silent, for no song is uttered 

 by the birds which sang so sweetly on these 

 boughs in spring. Several of our birds, how- 

 ever, recommence singing when this moulting is 

 over. Thus, the robin's autumnal note is one of 

 the first tones to remind us that winter is on its 

 way to us ; and the wren and the goldfinch have 

 a strain for the fading year. At this time, before 

 these birds arrive at their full song, they may be 

 heard warbling their low prelude, as a singer 

 might do to prepare her voice for louder strains of 

 music. The chaffinch will sometimes practise thus 

 for several weeks before attaining its former per- 

 fection; and the nightingale thus tries for a long 

 time to model the notes of its rich strain before it 

 can produce the full degree of compass and bril- 

 liance. This practising does not seem to arise 

 from any forgetfulness of the song, but from a 

 want of flexibility in the organs of the voice, 

 owing to long disuse. 



But we must return to the redwing, which, 

 besides its song, has a very loud call-note, seeming 

 as if it uttered a cry of " tan, tan, kan, kan," a 



