366 MR. J. H. GURNEY ON THE ECONOMY OF THE CUCKOO. 
One thing which is remarkable about this bird is that it is 
equally at home in a Scottish mountain glen, by the marshy side 
of a Norfolk Broad, on the bleak Scilly Islands, in the cultivated 
Midlands, or among the tool- sheds and greenhouses of a country 
house. Of no other British bird can this be said, for it is not true 
of the ubiquitous Sparrow, nor would it be true of the Robin or 
the Chaffinch. In the choice of a fosterer it is almost equally 
ubiquitous. This is one reason of its being such a favourite, and 
because of the general opinion that no other bird utters a note so 
closely approaching the human voice, but in June the male u changes 
his tune.” There are very few persons who can imitate a Cuckoo so 
well as to take in a practised ear, but there are some, and the bird 
itself is not hard to deceive. The third week in April is the time 
to listen for Cuckoos in Norfolk, — Our President, Mr. Preston, has 
favoured us with the average of dates from various sources, giving 
April 23rd, St. George’s Day, as an approximate date of arrival. The 
same day is given by Mr. Southwell, quoting members of the 
Marsham family, as the mean of 106 years’ observation of the 
Cuckoo at Stratton Strawless, the home of Gilbert White’s 
correspondent.* 
Although so much has been said and written about Cuckoos 
spring-coming, no one has been at the pains of collecting data of the 
last appearance of adult Cuckoos, always the first of the summer 
migrants to leave the British Isles. This seemingly purposeless 
haste is admissible evidence that, in other birds as well as them- 
selves, the object of migration northwards is to seek a climate 
suitable for their young, far more than to satisfy their own require- 
ments. The young often stay into October, and there is one 
recorded occurrence on our east coast as late as November 26th 
(‘Christy’s Birds of Essex,’ p. 153), but the end of September is 
the usual time to quit England’s shores. You will hardly credit the 
Cuckoo affirmed to have been heard at Elmham and Snettisham, 
nearly twenty miles apart, on December 6th, 1888, in spite of some 
indirect corroboration which the announcement by Mr. G. Cracknell, 
* In Egypt, Cuckoos appear to be mute on the Spring passage northwards, 
reserving like some other birds, bent only on migration, their burst of song 
until the goal is reached, unless all seen by us wore females incapable of 
saying “ Cuckoo.” The absence of the Golden Oriole’s flute-like note was 
noticed in the same way. 
