The berries were almost all gone, the insects, wisely, came not forth, and, in short, the supplies were all but stopped. Verily there hath not been much disposition "To forestal sweet Saint Valentine" this year. But now, while we are writing, the redstart, which seldom, it is true, appears among us before the middle of April, and is often not seen till the end of that month, is running on the grass plat, picking up its insect-food, and vibrating its tail at the close of every run, its white cap and black gorget contrasting strongly in the sunshine. It is a blessed change. The swallows are come, and they do make a spring, if not a summer. When we proceed to enumerate the different species of singing birds, we shall inquire as to the time of year when each may be considered, generally speaking, to be in full song. At present we shall merely observe, that it depends in great measure both upon the health and spirits of the individual, and the state of the weather. Not that any of them, hardly, are to be heard in any thing like full song in January, except very rarely. February, March, and April, are more and more tunable. Often, in the latter month, the chill gloomy morning, rendered more dreary by a cutting easterly wind, clears away into a fine warm afternoon. In such mornings, while Eurus predominates, every thing around is silent with the exception of the murmur of the brook; but the wind changes, the clouds disperse, forth breaks the sun, the insects swarm, the tuneful stream becomes alive with the rising trouts, and the groves burst out into melody. In May, "the mother of love," the year is more confirmed, and every garden, orchard, and copse rivals the singing tree of the Arabian story. Now it is that the full power of song is developed; witness the clear mellow pipe of that blackbird perched on the tallest acacia in the garden, while his mate, with half-shut eyes, and pressing her little ones to her bosom, listens in security on her nest in yonder hawthorn hedge spangled with its dewy Mayflower blossoms. May, 1837. SINGING BIRDS-RESIDENTS. "Within the bush, her covert nest A little linnet fondly prest, Sae early in the morning." BURNS. No: every green thing has not been sacrificed to the FrostGenius. Nights, rivalling the Iron Nights of the Swedish calendar, have, indeed, done their work; and it may be doubted whether the horticulturist has had so much cause for lamentation since the "Black Spring" of 1771. Numbers are mourning their dead rhododendrons, azalias, and magnolias, and not a few have to sigh over their withered bays, to say notning of laurustinuses and roses-even the hardy holly has, in some places, perished in its death-struggle with the weather. The determined lingering of winter in the lap of spring seems to have checked every effort of vegetable life, producing one of the most backward seasons remembered. This has had its effect upon the Singing Birds; for, as the food of their nestlings consists almost entirely of caterpillars and of insects generally in the early stages of development, or of worms and slugs, all of which depend upon plants for subsistence, their song, and incubation-there have been exceptions, doubtless-are late this year. We saw one instance of the ravenous eagerness with which the half-starved creatures attacked and made prey of some of the first flowers that dared to show themselves. On a fine sunny morning after the first of the one or two comparatively warm nights that came in March, the garden, which on the preceding day had "made no sign," was bright with crocuses-every one of which the birds devoured or destroyed before noon. Of all the British resident Song-birds, the Merulidæ are the most remarkable for the strength of their vocal powers, and the first of this family that claims our attention, for it is a brumal as well as an early vernal songster, is a very curious bird, not uncommon in some localities, but extremely rare in others, and concerning which much of the marvellous has been written. If we are to believe some authors, the Water-Ouzel, Water Blackbird, or Dipper,* Der Wasserschwätzer of the Germans, Merle d'eau of the French, and Tordo del agua of the Spaniards, deliberately descends into the water, and walks about on the bottom of the stream with the same ease and complacency as if it were stepping on the dry land. Now, to say nothing of that extremely impracticable law of which we are reminded every hour of the day, and more especially "when china falls," the structure of the bird itself is not adapted for such a feat; and though we have no doubt of its subaqueous habits, which have food more than frolic for their object, we are more than skeptical as to its pedestrian performances in such a situation. Mr. Macgillivray, who writes. as none can write who have not beheld what they write about, informs us that he has seen the Dipper moving under water in situations where he could observe it with certainty, and he found that its actions were precisely similar to those of the Divers, Cinclus aquaticus-Turdus Cinclus of Linnæus. Mergansers, and Cormorants, which he had often watched from an eminence as they pursued the shoals of sand-eels along the shores of the Hebrides. It, in fact, flew; not merely employing the wing from the carpal joint, but extending it considerably, and availing itself of the whole expanse, just as it would have done if it had been moving in the air. The general direction of the body was obliquely downwards; and great force was evidently used to counteract buoyancy, the bird finding it difficult to keep itself at the bottom. Mr. Macgillivray remarks that Colonel Montagu well describes the appearance which it presents under such circumstances; and the former goes on to state that, in one or two instances where he has been able to perceive it under water, it appeared to tumble about in a very extraordinary manner, with its head downwards, as if pecking something, and at the same time great exertion of both wings and legs was used. The bird was, we doubt not, at this time capturing the fresh-water mollusca and insect-larvæ which form its principal aliment. When searching for food, the Dipper, according to Mr. Macgillivray, does not proceed to great distances under water; but, alighting on some spot, sinks, and soon reappears in the immediate neighbourhood, when it either dives again, or rises on the wing to drop somewhere else on the water, or to settle on an insulated stone in the midst of the brook. The same ornithologist broadly, and, as we believe, truly, states that the assertion of its walking below the surface, which some persons have ventured, is neither made good by observation nor countenanced by reason. Its short legs, and long, curved claws, are, as he says, very ill adapted for running, but admirably calculated for securing a steady footing on slippery stones, whether above or beneath the surface of the water. The sonorous song of this extraordinary bird startles the ear as it comes mingled with the hoarse tones of the torrent, or the rushing of the wintry waterfall, sometimes in the midst of a snow-storm. Mr. Rennie, who remarks that it is one of the few birds that are vocal so early in the year as the months of January and February, heard it, on the 11th of the latter month-in a hard frost, when the thermometer in the morning had been at 26°, sing incessantly in a powerful and elegant style, with much variation in the notes, many of which were peculiar to itself, intermingled with a little of the piping of the Woodlark. The day was bright whilst it was singing, but it was freezing in the shade; and the sun, which had considerably passed the meridian, was obscured from the songster by the lofty surrounding hills. The same author declares that the Dipper consumes a considerable quantity of fishes' spawn, and, especially, of the ova of the salmon. Bechstein, who also notices its winter music, alleges that it sings, moreover, in the night. The nest is as curious as the bird that makes it. In shape it a good deal resembles that of a Wren, having a dome or roof, but it is not so deep. Externally it is formed of water-plants, or closely-interwoven moss: within, there is a lining of dry leaves. The access to the hollow chamber is through an aperture in the side. It is often placed in some mossy bank overhanging the stream, "Where the lady-fern grows longest ;" and has been detected under a projecting stone forming part of a cascade, and behind a sheet of falling water. Through this liquid glassy curtain the bird darted to its home. The eggs, from four to six in number, are white, and pointed at the end; and, wherever the nest is placed, such care is taken by the old birds to assimilate its hues to those of the locality, that, large as it is, the most acute eye is often unable to detect it. There is an excellent vignette of the Dipper's nest in Mr. Yarrell's delightful "History of British Birds."* This Water Blackbird is not uncommon in Scotland, nor in the North and West of England. In Wales and Ireland it frequently occurs. Mr. Yarrell mentions one which was seen at a watermill, near Wyrardisbury, on the Colne, about two or three hundred yards above the place at which that river falls into the Thames, just below Bell Weir, well known to the angler who goes after the great trouts. The bird, he adds, has also been seen on the Mole, near Esher, and in Essex; but it is seldom found in the counties near London. Next in order comes the Missel Thrush,† la Draine of the French, and Misteldrossel of the Germans. Perched on the top of the yet leafless tree, he pours forth his loud and oftenrepeated strain of melancholy, but musical cadences,— "While rocking winds are piping loud," amid all the meteoric rudeness of February. The advent of the storm is hailed by him in notes of more than ordinary power; and so remarkable is this habit, that it has obtained for the bird, in many counties, the name of Storm Cock. Self-possessed and daring, this, one of the largest of the British Thrushes, will suffer hardly any animal to approach its haunts during the season of incubation; hence the Welch call him Pen y llwyn, the head or master of the coppice; for he will not tolerate the presence of any thievish Magpie, Jay, or Crow, but drives them from the spot with loud cries. So pugnacious are both the sexes at this period, that the hen bird has been known to fly at the face of †Turdus viscivorus. * 8vo. London, Van Vorst. man when he has disturbed her while sitting. White acknowledges the success with which the Missel Thrush frequently repels the invader; but he once saw in his garden at Selborne a sad exception to the general rule. Several Magpies came down. in a body, determined to storm the nest of the poor Missel Thrushes, who "defended their mansion with great vigour, and fought resolutely pro aris et focis; but numbers at last prevailed; they tore the nest to pieces, and swallowed the young alive." The food of the Missel Thrush consists of slugs, worms, insects, &c., with no small addition of berries, among which that of the misseltoe (whence its name) is a decided favourite. The nest, which is begun in April, is generally placed in the fork of a tree, sometimes carefully concealed, but, at others, remarkably exposed it presents externally a mass of coarse stems of plants, moss, withered grasses, and lichens. Within, it is stuccoed with mud or clay, which is again lined with delicate dry grasses, on which are laid four or five eggs more than an inch long, generally of a greenish white spotted with ruddy brown, but the colour occasionally varies to pinkish or reddish white, mottled with dark red-brown hues. The bird, though plentiful nowhere, is not uncommon anywhere in Britain, and is to be found in most of the counties near the metropolis: we have seen and heard it frequently at Fulham. Brisson named the Song Thrush,* Throstle, or Mavis, the Small Missel Thrush, and, indeed, it is very nearly a miniature resemblance of the last-mentioned species. But this admirable musician, to which the English and Germans have given a name expressive of its melodious pipe, goes far beyond the Missel Thrush, or, indeed, any of the tribe in Britain, in its vocal powers. From early spring, throughout the summer months, even until the autumn, this charming songster delights the rural inhabitants of this island, more especially in the morning and towards the close of day. It generally chooses the top of a high tree for its station, and we have sometimes thought its music most perfect after a genial shower on a fine warm spring evening, when the young foliage was glittering with the rain-drops, and not a breath of air disturbed the direct upward column of gray smoke rising from the neighbouring cottage. Like all powerful song-birds, this thrush often seems to articulate words distinctly. We have heard one express, in the course of its singing, sounds which fell on the ear as if it were repeating the words "My dear-my pretty dear-my pretty little dear." These accents were not caught up by one listener alone, who might, perhaps, have been deemed a little imaginative; but all who heard them were struck by the resemblance. * Turdus musicus, Linn. The Germans call it Singdrossel. |