CXCIV 
LIFE OF WILSON. 
bird, unquestionably the most accomplished songster of the 
feathered race. 
^^The plumage of the Mocking-bird, though none of the 
homeliest, has nothing gaudy or brilliant in it; and, had he noth- 
ing else to recommend him, would scarcely entitle him to no- 
tice; but his figure is well proportioned, and even handsome. 
The ease, elegance and rapidity of his movements, the anima- 
tion of his eye,* and the intelligence he displays in listening, 
and laying up lessons from almost every species of the feathered 
creation within his hearing, are really surprising, and mark the 
peculiarity of his genius. To these qualities we may add that of 
a voice full, strong, and musical, and capable of almost every 
modulation, from the clear mellow tones of the Wood Thrush, 
to the savage scream of the Bald Eagle. In measure and accent 
he faithfully follows his originals. In force and sweetness of ex- 
pression he greatly improves upon them. In his native groves, 
mounted upon the top of a tall bush or half-grown tree, in the 
dawn of dewy morning, while the woods are already vocal 
with a multitude of warblers, his admirable song rises pre-emi- 
nent over every competitor. The ear can listen to his music 
alone', to which that of all the others seems a mere accompani- 
ment. Neither is this strain altogether imitative. His own na- 
tive notes, which are easily distinguishable by such as are well 
acquainted with those of our various song birds, are bold and 
full, and varied seemingly beyond all limits. They consist 
of short expressions of two, three, or at the most five or six 
syllables ; generally interspersed with imitations, and all of them 
uttered with great emphasis and rapidity; and continued, with 
undiminished ardour, for half an hour, or an hour at a time. 
His expanded wings and tail, glistening with white, and the 
buoyant gayety of his action, arresting the eye, as his song most 
irresistibly does the ear. He sweeps round with enthusiastic 
ecstasy — he mounts and descends as his song swells or dies 
away ; and, as my friend Mr. Bartram has beautifully expressed 
it, ‘ He bounds aloft with the celerity of an arrow, as if to 
* The reader is referred to our author’s figure of this bu-d, which is one of 
the most spirited drawings that the records of natural history can produce. 
