on the Common Accentor.



93



Of course everyone is entitled to his opinion and personally

I am absolutely opposed to this dogma. I believe no Shama or

Dliyal can by any possibility be more thoroughly tamed than our

Nightingale, Redstart, Whinchat, or Pipits; and there is more

character, more individuality in a Nuthatch or a Bearded Tit

than in all the Mannikins that were ever imported into this

country.


So, in defence of my own view of this matter, I will

endeavour to say something about the very commonest of all

our English insectivorous birds—the Accentor. I will not insult

the subject of the present notice by calling him a Hedgesparrow

and, besides, this would be a vulgar error, for he is no relation to

the Sparrow family. No ! He is Accentor— the singer, viodiilaris

—with the tuneful voice, much admired by Beclistein, although

the latter did not consider he deserved to be called the “ Winter

Nightingale.”


Rather more than twelve months since, I wrote to our

Editor to ascertain whether the Accentor had been bred or not,

and for this purpose a query was inserted in the Magazine.

However, this enquiry produced no response nor have I been

able to gather any information elsewhere so that I trust that this

brief narrative, should it fail in achieving any other result, will

at all events settle this question.


I caught some Accentors in 1904—two males and one

female—in my garden and incarcerated them in a small out-door

aviary. These three Accentors, with one bred in 1906 and

another in 1907 are still in my possession, and this brings me to

my first postulate, viz., that the Accentor's is an excellent life for

an Insurance Compajiy, which certainly cannot be said for the

majority of imported species.


I had some eggs laid on the ground in 1904, and a nest

built (but no eggs) in 1905.


In 1906 I caught up one male and female and removed

them to a larger aviary. Throughout the winter the male sang

charmingly, which introduces my second postulate, viz., that the

Accentor sings when other birds are silent.


I recently read an amusing article by Mr. E. Kay Robinson,

in the Daily Mail , on the “ winter song of birds,” contending,



