A DAY IN THE ESTEREL AZILLS. 251 
flourish. In the dazzling sunlight I get a good view of this 
sprightly bird, and can note his long tail, his slightly raised 
crest, and, as he turns, even his peculiar orange-coloured eye- 
lids. All these features, coupled with his maroon-coloured breast, 
make him a very distinctive bird, and I think only a stranger 
could confuse him with the shorter-tailed Subalpine Warbler 
(Sylvia subalpina), a tree-haunting species, sometimes, by the 
way, found breeding in the same range of hills. 
At the slightest provocation our songster dives into the 
undergrowth, and, as he worms his way through the dense scrub, 
I hear his deep, cross little ‘‘ pe-tcher-tcher-tcher ”—and it is 
easy to understand why the French call him “ Pitchou.” 
If rare elsewhere in our small patch of ‘‘ maquis,” the Pitchou 
is certainly common enough, and in the space of a couple of 
acres or so I come across at least four or five pairs. As the sun 
lowers and the afternoon becomes cooler, the rival males com- 
mence to sing one against the other, tossing themselves up into 
the air, and sailing back again to their favourite bushes; and 
every now and then I catch a glimpse of their less obtrusive 
mates, evidently in close attendance upon their lords and 
masters. 
Although fairly early breeders, I do not fancy nesting opera- 
tions have commenced yet (March 22nd). The few nests I have 
been fortunate enough to find have always contained eggs by 
about the middle of April, four being the average clutch. In 
size these resemble Whitethroat’s eggs, but are always more 
distinctly spotted with a darker shade of greenish-brown, under 
which are slate-grey shell markings. But, apart from the 
eggs, the nest itself can be distinguished from that of the com- 
moner Warbler, being a bulkier and more compact structure, 
composed—in France, at any rate—almost entirely of dried 
grasses, finer stems being used for the lining. It is placed in 
the midst of the scrub or ‘‘ maquis”’ that forms the bird’s home, 
and in our experience is usually about a couple of feet from the 
ground. 
This ‘‘ maquis,” that covers the sides of so many of these 
Kisterel Hills, is here exceptionally fine, and puts one much 
in mind of Corsica. It is, indeed, representative of the 
typical drought-resisting vegetation of the Mediterranean region. 
