I2O 



APRIL 



one county or parish is not true of another. Neverthe 

 less, it holds that round about the very mid days of 

 April the bright things of spring come together like the 

 golden rays of a dandelion flower &quot; a thousand golden 

 arrows at one mark, all hitting.&quot; You hear and see, per 

 haps, what you expect to hear and see ; and to some, 

 expecting the note of the nightingale on April 17, and 

 making in the evening to a favourite clump, the passion 

 ate note sounds pat to the date, the deep bubble and at 

 last the long, thin-drawn cry. 



By their songs we know them, or most of them, espe 

 cially the little warblers from overseas who come to nest 

 with us. Is there any man who dare say that he can 

 distinguish the chiff-chaff seen in the open from the 

 willow-warbler by the gift of his eyes alone ? Most of 

 us would have doubts even if we held the bird in our 

 hand. It is one thing to tell us that the smaller size, the 

 more rounded wing, the duller tints distinguish him, 

 but what do these amount to when the restless bird is 

 making his busy patrol from twig to twig, however near 

 he comes ? Happily the notes are as different as the 

 bodies are alike. I heard the chiff-chaff one year on an 

 oak tree in a garden on April 6. He was full of cheerful 

 chatter, and few birds sing more consistently. He is the 

 only warbler, I think, who resumes his song as he leaves 

 in autumn. In the garden of a cheerful rectory in Cam 

 bridgeshire capacious traps are set in autumn for the 

 migrants, who are caught up and ringed. It is not a 

 branch of science that I like ; but that is neither here nor 

 there. Last time I was there the willow-warblers were 

 walking into the cages one after another and would else 

 have been quite unseen, though the autumnal note of 

 the chiff-chaff had been heard many times. The best 

 singers are often more parsimonious of their music ; and 



