70 
NATURE NOTES. 
THE NOTES OF BIRDS. 
H A VE known robins and other garden birds long and well, 
and that sweet little far-away-sounding warble that Mr. 
Collier speaks of (p. 38) — sometimes more seen than 
heard— has often been sung close to my elbow whilst 
gardening, by some tame robin that has been following me 
about. It is by no means exclusively a “love song.” I saw 
one the other day singing it quite to itself, sitting all alone 
on a low twig ; a sweet little meditative soliloquy it was, 
expressive of peaceful content and enjoyment of the moment. 
And it is not only the robin that does it; I have heard a 
hedge sparrow do it — with a difference of course — hiding behind 
a faggot. It was “ only the song of a secret bird,” and that not 
a fine singer, but it was very sweet. I have also heard a golden- 
crested wren do it, creeping in and out of the branches of a rose 
tree growing up the verandah ; and that had a curious sequel, for 
the bird did not at first observe my approach to a window very 
close to it, and when it did, before flying away it scolded me, just 
as I have heard babies scold, with a harsh, guttural note. To 
be scolded by a gold-crest ! Birds seem to me to sing softly or 
loudly according to the distance at which they wish to be heard, 
and assuredly they sing from a great variety of feelings. 
I must protest against the notion that the robin has only two 
songs. It has one voice, but the variety of its strains is indefinite 
— I had almost said infinite — for I have often listened for some 
time to two robins that have been singing to, or against, each 
other from a distance, and I have failed to detect any two strains 
alike — alike, that is, from the same bird, for I have often thought 
that I could detect clumsy imitation on the part of one, and then 
I have su.spected a singing lesson. For birds require to be 
taught almost everything, from fear to feeding ; for though a 
young bird is of course easily startled, it does not seem to fear one 
till it has seen that other birds fly away. At first it looks 
wonderingly after them. I had a good opportunity once of 
watching the education of a young chaffinch that was nearly 
brought up on my well-provided windowsill. I observed, amongst 
other things, that birds can peck up before they can swallow 
without assistance. One day last summer I was feeding a very 
}mung robin on a bush in the garden, the bird’s attention being 
wholly occupied, when a hedge sparrow suddenly piped up close 
by in a lively manner. In a moment the robin turned to it, and 
began to make a curious little chuckling noise in its throat, with 
much earnestness and strong endeavour. It was obviously a 
first attempt at singing. 
So far from “all the songs” of the warblers being “love 
songs,” I should say that comparatively few of them were that. 
First of all, I am convinced that they sing, as human beings do, 
for the love of it. Then there is musical rivalry, immense ! I 
have seen and heard a blackcap and a whitethroat singing 
