Gyngell : The Singing Thiie of Birds. 



145 



whilst perched on the ground, and also on the ground we 

 may hear the chorus of the irrepressible Starling. 



Giving mere figures, I may say that I have heard 37 species 

 singing in trees, 32 in bushes and hedges, 17 singing- whilst 

 flying, 6 on buildings, 6 on the ground, 5 on telegraph wires, 

 I (the Little Grebe) on the water, and 6 species indulge in 

 •chorus singing. 



Birds vary very much in the amount of time which they give 

 up to song — some singing only for a few seconds, and then 

 resting perhaps for hours ; others singing almost all day long, 

 with intervals of minutes or seconds only, and with frequent 

 outbursts during the night. Some must have perfect weather, 

 others are utterly indifferent to weather conditions. Some 

 sing for nine months of the year, others for three months only. 

 Some (notably the Nightingale) become silent as soon as the 

 young are hatched, others go on singing until the autumn 

 moult, whilst a few others are not hushed by even this most 

 trying time for birds. 



Bright spring days are most favoured by birds ; hot sultry 

 days few like ; a gale of wind is disliked by all. Weeks before 

 the spring season of song commences, and indeed all through 

 the winter, we may hear every day in our streets the songs of 

 two birds who, despising alike cold damp fogs, drizzling rain, 

 sleet or snow, or keen sharp frosts, cheer us with their daily 

 voices. When men who are well fed, well clothed, and well 

 housed, and with nothing to trouble them in any way, grumble 

 incessantly at the weather conditions of their native country, it 

 is to me indescribably delightful to see the penniless Starling, 

 clothed only by Nature, and who literally knows not where the 

 next meal will come from, perch upon a dirty human house roof, 

 and, with wings moving to time, sing his song of apparently 

 endless variety, and this in wind or rain, or winter snow. 

 Under these same uninviting conditions the Robin also sings 

 all through these dreary days. The songs of these and other 

 birds have helped me more than the psalms of men. 



But I always like to feel that the real season of song opens 

 with the first bright days of January, and is heralded by the 

 Missel Thrush, the bird which some modern S3''stematists place 

 first in the list of British birds. If the season be normal, when 

 the dark days of December are past, January brings us brighter, 

 if colder, weather. Then, however low the temperature may 

 be, sunshine starts the Missel Thrush, who sings a loud and 

 most exhilarating song, usually from the top of some tall tree. 



1905 May I. K 



