BIRDS IN A VILLAGE 8i 



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 

 fifteen seconds, he would bark again, and so on until 

 he had had his fill of music for the time. The 

 barking got on the invalid's nerves, and he sent the 

 bird away. " It was either that," he said, " or losing 

 my senses altogether." 



As all or most singing birds learn their songs from 

 the adults of the same species, it is not strange that 

 there should be a good deal of what we call mimicry 

 in their performances : we may say, in fact, that 

 pretty well all the true singers are mimics, but that 

 some mimic more than others. Thus, the starling 

 is more ready to borrow other birds* notes than the 

 thrush, while the marsh warbler borrows so much 

 that his singing is mainly composed of borrowings. 

 The nightingale is perhaps an exception. His voice 

 excels in power and purity of sound and what we 

 may call his artistry is exceptionally perfect; this 

 may account for the fact that he does not borrow 

 from other birds' songs. I should say from my own 

 observation that all songsters are interested in the 

 singing of other species, or at all events in certain 

 notes, especially the most striking in power, beauty, 

 and strangeness. Thus, when the cuckoo starts 

 calling you will see other small birds fly straight to 

 the tree and perch near him, apparently to listen. 



