VI On the Songs of Birds 143 



not mere twittering, but real singing, — of some 

 dozens of Swallows, which were careering about, now 

 over the osiers, now far up in the air, the song now 

 distant, now close at hand, until about nine o'clock 

 they all suddenly dropped down into the osiers and 

 were silent. That singing meant pure enjoyment of 

 life — nothing more. 



The Swifts, again, birds without true song, use 

 their voices in this same way. Every one has seen 

 and heard them dashing in little companies round 

 the towers in which they build, and screaming with 

 an intensity of enjojonent which quite communicates 

 itself to the human looker-on. Eooks, as we all 

 know, have mysterious habits, social and noisy, of 

 the same kind. Even our unpoetical Sparrow, whose 

 efforts at singing are of the meanest, wiU indulge of 

 an evening in a sort of music-hall chorus, in which 

 every bird chatters as loud as he can; hundreds 

 taking possession of some favoixrite holly-tree or 

 thick creeper, and joining in a discordant chorus just 

 before roosting time. 



These last two instances, it may be said, are 

 not really cases of true song, though they are the 

 substitute for it in birds which have their vocal 

 organs developed but neglected. But I can quote a 

 most remarkable example of real singing in company, 

 without any reference to courting or rivalry. There 

 is a large bird of the South American pampas, known 



