220 BIRDS 



the Starling cannot be called a song, though true 

 it is that I have heard some individuals singing 

 quite sweetly and well. It strikes one as more of 

 a curious sort of chatter with a long drawn-out 

 whistle, such as one uses when surprised. These 

 birds, the Rooks (which are very near relations to 

 the last named), and the House Sparrows are 

 amongst the earliest to nest, and all three have 

 now been engaged in nest building and repairing 

 for some weeks. 



There are others, too, busy nesting, for every 

 March I find nests of the golden-daggered Black- 

 bird and the Hedge Sparrow quite ready for the 

 reception of greenish eggs blotched with brown in 

 the case of the Blackbird, and unpaintable shells 

 of delicate light green belonging to the Hedge 

 Sparrow. It is a pleasure to light upon the eggs 

 of any wild bird early in the year; the first nest 

 and eggs of the season thrill the enthusiast with 

 excitement, and there is an impatient longing for 

 a daily increase in the sweet love songs of happy 

 birds. It is one of the greatest anniversaries in 

 the ornithologist's year. 



The Song and Mistle Thrushes are both singing 

 loud and long. Occasionally the little Brown 

 Wren pours out that strong and captivating song 

 of his; the Ring Doves have been saying, " Don't 

 scold so, Suky," for some weeks. The screaming 

 Jays and fighting Starlings, the graceful Lap- 



