BIRDS IN A VILLAGE 77 



nerves, and I felt it as a relief when it finally ceased. 

 Then, after a short silence, another sound came from 

 the same spot — a blackbird sound, known to every 

 one, but curiously interesting when uttered in the 

 way I now heard it. It was the familiar loud chuckle, 

 not emitted in alarm and soon ended, but the 

 chuckle uttered occasionally by the bird when he 

 is not disturbed, or when, after uttering it once for 

 some real cause, he continues repeating it for no 

 reason at all, producing the idea that he has just 

 made the discovery that it is quite a musical sound 

 and that he is repeating it, as if singing, just for 

 pleasure. At such times the long series of notes do 

 not come forth with a rush ; he begins deliberately 

 with a series of musical chirps uttered in a measured 

 manner, like those of a wood wren, the prelude to 

 its song, the notes coming faster and faster and 

 swelling and running into the loud chuckling per- 

 formance. This performance, like the lost drake's 

 call, was repeated in the same deliberate or leisurely 

 manner at intervals again and again until my curiosity 

 was aroused and I went to the spot to get a look at 

 the bird who had turned his alarm sound into a song 

 and appeared to be very much taken with it. But 

 there was no blackbird at the spot, and no lost 

 drake, and no bird except a throstle sitting motionless 

 on the bush mound. This was the bird I had been 

 listening to, uttering not his own thrush melody, 



