98 BIRD LIFE THROUGHOUT THE YEAR 



are now breeding. But some of our resident birds, 

 and those of the hardiest, are far from being in a hurry 

 to take up parental duties. We have never seen the 

 eggs of the bullfinch before May is in, and rarely those 

 of the yellow-hammer with their inky scrawls, while 

 the common-bunting goes so far as to postpone nesting 

 until the latter half of the month. 



The first half of May sees the list of our summer 

 migrants completed by the addition of some half-a- 

 dozen late comers. The month is scarcely in when, 

 with shrill screaming, the long-winged Swifts dash 

 once more round the steeples, abbey walls or battle- 

 ments of the ruined castle in which they nest. From 

 the copse, now deep in grasses amongst which the 

 white-flowering hemlocks grow tall and lush, come the 

 song of the Garden Warbler and the purring " coo " of 

 Turtle Doves. One needs a nice ear for the minor 

 differences of bird song to discriminate at once and 

 with certainty between the songs of the garden- 

 warbler and the blackcap, but, while the rich warble 

 of the latter is delivered in separate phrases, that of 

 the garden warbler runs on like a rill, not so loud 

 but more continuously. Yet, knowing this much, we 

 may sometimes listen in doubt . Fbr a bird's song is the 

 expression of his varying mood. The Blackcap, as he 

 sings amongst the tender greenery of the young oaks, 

 is all animation. As we watch his erected crest and the 

 movements of his swelling throat, we may perhaps 



