in Among the Birds in Wales 65 



this bird ought to have chosen for his habitation, and 

 if you are in the right district you may fairly lay a 

 wager that he will be found there. 



Such a spot, on the edge of the beech forests of 

 Wiesbaden, wUl always remain in very clear outline 

 in my memory, for it was there I first heard the song 

 of this bird. It is very seldom now that I hear a 

 song that is quite new to me. If it were not that so 

 many of our songsters sing all too short a time, and 

 that when they tune up one by one for the orchestra 

 of the spring season each instrument touches the ear 

 with the fresh delight of recognition, I might feel as 

 much at the end of my tether as the mountaineer 

 who has no more peaks to climb. But this song was 

 not only new, but wonderfully sweet and striking. 

 "Something like a Eedstart's," say the books, and 

 this is not untrue, so far as it represents the outward 

 form, so to speak, of the song — the quickness or 

 shortness of notes, the rapid variations of pitch. But 

 no one who has once accustomed his ear to the very 

 peculiar timlre of the voice of either kind of Eedstart 

 will mistake for it the song of the Pied Flycatcher. 

 My notes, taken on the spot, and before I had seen 

 any other description of it, recall the song to my 

 memory — the short notes at the beginning, the rather 

 fragmentary and hesitating character of the strain, 

 and the little coda or finish, which reminded me of 

 the Chaffinch; but all this will have no meaning to 



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