A BIRD-LOVED SUBURB. 
227 
head in fierce pursuit of a thrush, when they dashed both 
together into a thick holly-bush close by, and there they were 
so closely entangled that I at once caught them, one in each 
hand. The thrush, a fine black cock with yellow bill, I let go, 
glad to escape from his deadly pursuer ; the bold little hawk, 
a female, I held for awhile, with some difficulty, and at last 
let her fly gladly away. 
The nest-building of the birds furnishes an object of study 
that is full of wonder. By watching it day by day, and close at 
hand, in your own garden, it will seem quite amazing. Those 
neat nest-builders, the chaffinch, the goldfinch, and such like, 
are well-known and highly appreciated ; but once I had the good 
fortune to be able to study thoroughly, and at ease, the wonder- 
ful skill as a nest-builder of the song-thrush, which, along with 
the blackbird (itself another thrush) and the skylark, floods 
English scenes with melody little inferior to the music of the 
nightingale. Of one of the loveliest songsters of English woods 
and hedgerows, it was pleasant to be able to note how highly it 
should rank as an architect in nest-building. As a singer the 
thrush ranks among the very foremost. On the song-thrush, 
Tennyson, a lover and a student of birds, wrote, in the latest 
years of his long life, a truly remarkable poem, of which three- 
fourths represent, in a wonderful nearness of structure, the 
words that denote the several snatches of the bird’s bursts of 
melody, while the remaining fourth records the comment on 
each strain by the poet. Here is one of the stanzas : — 
“ ‘ Summer is coming, summer is coming ; I know it, I know it, I know it ; 
Light again, leaf again, life again, love again ! ’ Yes, my wild little poet.” 
Various theories have been proposed to account for the main 
motives of the songs of birds. Some attribute them wholly to 
emotions of love, and dwell upon them as the language of court- 
ship and affection ; others to hilarity and joy ; and others, again, 
to rivalry or defiance ; but perhaps it would be best to note in 
the songs a mixture of all these emotions. In regard to this 
subject, a small matter occurred in our own garden. Of a pair 
of robins, which had long built every year in one of our nest- 
boxes, the female was, after a hard winter, observed to be 
ailing ; she could scarcely eat or move about, and when I took 
her into my hand she hardly cared to get away. The male bird 
had always been so attentive to his consort, that his love seemed 
to be of the kind sung of by Ovid : — 
“ Hanc cupit, hanc optat, sola suspirit in ilia ; 
Signaque dat nutu, solllcitalque notis.” 
And now he tried to tempt her with crumbs, a bit of meat, or 
a worm ; but, alas, she pined away and died. Then, for a week, 
the male went around singing rapturously, almost without pause, 
the whole day long. This seemed to be to find and coax a 
sweetheart, and when he had thus secured another wife, the pair 
soon built a nest in one of our boxes, and reared there a nice 
