BIRDS IN A VILLAGE 97 



the best, and is perhaps the finest bird poem 

 in our literature. 



The blackbird, like the thrush, sometimes bor- 

 rows a note or a phrase, and, like the thrush 

 again, if reared by hand he may become a 

 nuisance by mimicking some disagreeable sound, 

 and using it by way of song. I heard of such 

 a case a short time ago at Sidmouth. The ground 

 floor of the house where I lodged was occupied 

 by a gentleman who had a fondness for bird 

 music, and being an invalid confined to his rooms, 

 he kept a number of birds in cages. He had, be- 

 sides canaries, the thrush, chaffinch, linnet, gold- 

 finch and cirl bunting. I remarked that he did 

 not have the best singer of all — the blackbird. 

 He said that he had procured one, or that some 

 friend had sent him one, a very beautiful ouzel 

 cock in the blackest plumage and with the orange- 

 tawniest bill, and he had anticipated great 

 pleasure from hearing its fluting melody. But 

 alas! no blackbird song did this unnatural black- 

 bird sing. He had learnt to bark like a dog, and 

 whenever the singing spirit took him he would 

 bark once or twice or three times, and then, after 

 an interval of silence of the proper length, about 



