Bird*. 5201 



I think they do so, although some do thus remain ; at least, I have 

 searched often and long for their nests, but have not as yet been 

 rewarded for my trouble. Some seasons they occur in thousands, 

 others, again, only sparingly. 



The Song Thrush or Mavis (Turdus musicus). "Who is there that 

 has ever trod the weedy dale or whinny brake in early spring, and, 

 having heard the mellow voice of this musician of the grove, was not 

 struck with delight and enchanted at the peculiar richness and soft- 

 ness of his tones ? If there is such a one, go, go, 1 say, thou creature 

 of stone, or of something worse, — something harder and colder than 

 stone ! 1 envy thee not. Nature smiles not for thee. For my own 

 part, I must say that of all the birds which adorn and enliven our 

 woods I love this one the most. There is to me a sweetness in his 

 song which few, if any, of the others possess ; besides, he is generally 

 the first here to hail with his hymn of praise the young and opening 

 year. But, alas ! poor mavis. The other winter it suffered severely 

 here, scarcely one being left. In a tour through the greater part of 

 the county, last season, we only heard two, and saw but three. In 

 ordinary times it is quite common. This summer, however, there are 

 more of them, and a pretty good appearance of young; so that when 

 spring comes again we hope to hear our woods and groves once more 

 resounding with their soul-stirring strains. Having brought home, a 

 few summers ago, a nest of young mavises, and having placed it on a 

 table, I was somewhat surprised to hear a chuck, chuck, chuck, from 

 another part of the room. Looking up to a favourite bird, an old 

 thrush, I had in a cage, I was no less surprised at seeing him running 

 about the bottom of his dwelling with his mouth crammed as full of 

 bread as it would hold, chucking away all the time, and ever and 

 anon trying to get out at that part of his house which was next the 

 young birds. From this circumstance a thought struck me, namely, 

 that I might be saved the trouble of rearing the youngsters myself, as 

 I intended. Accordingly, in goes the nest. I soon had the satisfac- 

 tion of seeing my household pet as busy with and as eagerly feeding 

 his adopted children as if they had been his own. I was glad of this. 

 In a few weeks I had as nice and as pretty a brood of young as ever 

 eve rested on. The bird, I may mention, was an alarm-taking one. 

 But, alas ! about three months after the above affair, a skulking, 

 thieving, wretch of a cat, belonging to a neighbour, got in one day 

 when we were all out, and — need 1 say the rest of it? — killed my 

 faithful and much-admired nurse. The young were away this time, 

 or all would have shared the same fate. There is one fact in con- 



