on the Whinchat as a Song-Bird.



105



the soft glow of the shaded electric lights, the spotless linen, the

profound silence and that pathetic little figure, clasping the radiator

with one rounded arm and leaning a tired head against its smooth

columns. Then I understood why the palatial aviary with its

sumptuous appointments is not always a conspicuous success and I

realised that the Whinchat, huddled against the hot-water pipe, and

the little figure clasping the radiator were one and the same mental

phase, though exactly why they both found consolation and support

in this way was not so easy to understand, unless perchance it

reminded them both of the warmth of a snug little nest, far away

from smoky cities, and of happy days long past, which would never

return.


I picked up the Whinchat and carried him back to his old

home in the sitting-room. In one short week a plump and vigorous

little bird, suffering from no definite illness, had become almost a

skeleton and was evidently on the very brink of that dark river which

no traveller recrosses. Now a sick insectivorous bird of any kind is

difficult enough to deal with, hut a sick Whinchat is a proposition

more difficult than the fifth of Euclid — of evil memory. However,

with sympathy, careful handling and that best of all medicines known

as ' little bits,’ he rallied most amazingly. At the end of one week lie

sang a little, in a fortnight he took the Shama on, in three weeks he

had become a really fine performer. I was inclined to regard him as

a brilliant exception to the ordinary run of Whinchats, but the other

day I took up my copy of Bechstein, in which I found the following

(quoted from Sweet) : — “ This bird may be considered as one of the

tenderest of the tribe, being very susceptible to cold. It is one of

my greatest favourites. One that I bred from the nest by hand

learnt the song of the Wliitethroat, the Redstart, Willow-wren, Night¬

ingale, and also that of a Missel Thrush which it frequently heard

singing in a garden close by, of this latter song it was so fond that

we were frequently obliged to put our favourite out of the room, not

being able to bear its loud notes ; it was certainly the best bird I

ever kept of any kind, singing near the whole year through and

varying its song continually ; the only fault was its strong voice.”


In the matter of the susceptibility to cold of this species

there seem to he the usual exceptions, for our member, Mr. Galloway,



