224 The Return of Song 



elm-crowns are still heavy with the green of later 

 summer, or only flecked here and there with a 

 single golden bough, the song of the thrushes comes 

 harshly and uncertainly from their depths. But 

 when the great trees, which even at their first April 

 budding bore a duller verdure than most others, 

 flame forth at last into the most splendid shades 

 of amber, orange, and gold, the song-thrush lifts 

 his voice under the pale-blue November sky as 

 if winter already were past. It is only the loneli- 

 ness of his song that distinguishes it from the music 

 of spring. For in autumn and winter there are 

 seldom more than two or three singing thrushes 

 within earshot in the landscape, where in March 

 and April there may be too many to tell apart ; 

 and except for the fluting and clucking of starlings 

 in twos and threes about the tree-tops, there is 

 seldom other music to be heard among the loftier 

 boughs. 



It is this isolation of the autumn singers that 

 adds much clearness and attraction to their song. 

 Though the woodlark sings persistently from an 

 early season of spring, comparatively few ears 

 then learn to recognize the exceedingly rich and 

 resourceful melody of this local bird. But its 

 notes may be heard again under the paling gleams 

 of a September or October sky ; and then they can 

 hardly escape the attention of the most unlearned 

 or uncritical of listeners. The song is both richer 

 and more sustained than that of the skylark, though 

 it has hardly the remarkable individuality which is 

 given to the skylark's music by its silvery sweet- 



