" The nest is not such an exquisite structure as that of the Reed Warbler." 



THE MARSH WARBLER 



o 



NE day, whilst lying face 

 downwards under a thick 

 canopy of brambles and 

 nettles, with a sluggish, 

 muddy West Country river 

 meandering silently to- 

 wards the sea on one side 

 of me, and an ancient 

 clay-pit, overgrown with reeds and osiers, 

 on the other, I suddenly heard a bird 

 I had never listened to before. It was 

 far more musical than the Reed Warbler, 

 and, although a pronounced plagiarist, 

 had nothing of the incontinent spluttering 

 of the sedge bird in its delivery. 



Peering upwards through an opening 

 in the foliage with great caution, I 

 beheld the vocalist sitting on the top- 

 most spray of a bramble only a few 

 feet away. It was the very bird I had 

 come a long way to study a Marsh 

 Warbler, singing to his mate. He was 

 a little brown bird, about the same size 



and shape as a Reed Warbler, but 

 without the rusty red on his sides and 

 rump, and his legs were pale flesh 

 colour instead of slaty brown. His vocal 

 powers supplied the most striking differ- 

 ence, however, for if Nature has denied 

 him brilliant plumage, she has certainly 

 made amends in the character of his 

 voice. Whilst I listened this master- 

 singer imitated the song thrush, the 

 blackbird, and the nightingale, amongst 

 other birds, and after rendering one 

 item from his wonderfully varied reper- 

 toire, he paused as if to allow of its 

 being considered and enjoyed before 

 he went on to another. 



It is difficult to understand why such 

 an accomplished musician should have 

 remained undiscovered, or confused with 

 another bird of inferior vocal powers, 

 for such a length of time. Even Prof. 

 Alfred Newton considered it premature 

 to admit it as a British bird in the latest 



