Is known by his yellowish bill, by the dark color of his legs, and by his head being ash color, spotted with black. In the south of Europe they are insipid, tuneless birds, flying in flocks, and excessively watchful to preserve the general safety. All their season of music and pleasure is employed in the more northern climates, where they sing most delightfully, perched among the forests of maples, with which those countries abound.

The fieldfare is only a visitant in England, making its appearance about the beginning of October, in order to avoid the rigorous winters of the north, whence it sometimes comes in great flocks, according to the severity of the season, and leaves England about the latter end of February, or the beginning of March, and retires to Russia, Sweden, Norway, and as far as Siberia and Kamtschatka. They breed in Sweden and Norway. They build their nests in high trees, and sit on trees during the day, but always roost on the ground. During the winter they feed on haws and other berries; they likewise eat worms, snails, and slugs.

Fieldfares are sometimes seen singly, but, in general, form very numerous flocks, and fly in a body; and though they often spread themselves through the fields in search of food, they seldom lose sight of each other, but, when alarmed, fly off, and collect together upon the same tree.

There is reason, says Mr Bingley, to suppose that the flocks of these birds keep a kind of watch to remark and announce the appearance of danger. On any person approaching a tree that is covered with them, they continue fearless, till one, at the extremity of the bush, rising on its wings gives a loud and peculiar note of alarm. They will then fly away, except one other, which continues till the person approaches still nearer, to certify as it were the reality of the danger, and afterwards he also flies off, repeating the note of alarm.

The Roman epicures held these birds in such esteem, that they fattened them with crumbs of bread mixed with minced figs, and their flesh is still esteemed a delicacy.

THE THROSTLE, OR LONG THRUSH1

Is about eleven inches in length. The bill is dusky, the base of the lower bill yellow; the eyes are hazel; the head, back, and lesser coverts of the wings are of a deep olive brown, the latter tipped with white; the lower part of the back and rump are tinged with yellow; the cheeks are of a yellowish white, spotted with brown, as are also the breast and belly, which are marked with larger spots of a dark brown color; the quills are brown with pale edges; the tail feathers the same, the three outermost tipped with white; the legs are yellow; the claws black.

It begins to sing very early, often on the turn of the year, in blowing, showery weather, whence in some places it is called the storm cock, and its song is heard during nine months. Its note of anger is very loud and harsh, between a chatter and a shriek, which accounts for some of its names. Its usual strain, however, is among the sweetest of the grove, and is often kept up for hours without cessation. When brought up from the nest with the woodlark or the nightingale, it will adopt their song. It subsists on various sorts of berries, and likewise on caterpillars and several kinds of insects, with which it also feeds its young.

This bird is found in various parts of Europe, and is said to be migratory in some places, but continues in England the whole year, and frequently has two broods. It builds in woods or orchards, and not seldom in thick hedges near the ground. Fine and soft moss, interwoven with dried grass or hay, forms the outside of the nest, and the inside is curiously plastered with cow dung. In some districts of Poland, thrushes are caught in such numbers that the inhabitants export them in ship loads.

THE THRASHER, OR BROWN THRUSH.2

Ir is the largest of all the American thrushes, and is a well known and distinguished songster, and from the tops of hedge-rows, apple or cherry trees, he salutes the opening morning with his charming song, which is loud, emphatical, and full of variety. At that serene hour, you may plainly distinguish his voice at half a mile's distance. These notes are not imitative, but solely his own. Early in May, he builds his nest, choosing a thorn-bush, low cedar, thicket of briers, or cluster of vines for his situation. It is constructed of small sticks, dry leaves, and fine fibrous roots. He often attacks the black snake in defence of his young, and with success, as his bill is strong and powerful. His food consists of worms, caterpillars, beetles, and berries. 2 Turdus rufus, LIN.

1 Turdus musicus, LIN.

He also destroys vast quantities of grubs, which he scratches from the ground. He is an active and vigorous bird, flying generally low from one thicket to another, with his long broad tail spread out like a fan; he has a single note or chuck when you approach his nest. He inhabits North America, from Canada to Florida. They are easily reared, and become very familiar in confinement.

The thrasher is eleven inches and a half long; the whole upper parts are of a bright reddish brown; lower parts yellowish white; the breast and sides are marked with pointed black spots, running in chains. The wings are crossed with two white bars.

THE MOCKING-BIRD.1

THIS extraordinary bird is peculiar to the new world, inhabiting a considerable portion of both North and South America. A warm climate and low country seem most congenial to their nature; they are therefore much more numerous in the southern than the northern states. The berries of the red cedar, myrtle, holly, gum berries, gall berries, and a profusion of others, with which the luxuriant swampy thickets of those regions abound, furnish

them with a perpetual feast. Winged insects, also, which abound there even in winter, form a favorite part of their food.

The mocking-bird builds his nest in different places, according to the latitude in which he resides. A solitary thorn bush; an almost impenetrable thicket; an orange tree, cedar, or holly bush, are favorite spots. Always ready to defend, but never over anxious to conceal his nest, he very often builds within a small distance of a house; and not unfrequently in a pear or apple tree, rarely higher than six or seven feet from the ground. The nest is composed of dry twigs, weeds, straw, wool, and tow, ingeniously put together, and lined with fine fibrous roots. During the time when the female is sitting, neither cat, dog, animal, or man, can approach the nest without being attacked. But the whole vengeance of the bird is directed against his mortal enemy, the black snake. Whenever this reptile is discovered, the male darts upon it with the rapidity of an arrow, dexterously eluding its

bite, and striking it violently and incessantly against the head, where it is very vulnerable. The snake soon becomes sensible of his danger, and seeks to escape; but the intrepid bird redoubles his exertions, and as the snake's strength begins to flag, he seizes and lifts it up from the ground, beating it with his wings, and when the business is completed, he returns to his nest, mounts the summit of the bush, and pours out a torrent of song in token of victory.

The plumage of the mocking-bird has nothing gaudy or brilliant in it; but that which so strongly recommends him is his full, strong, and musical

voice, capable of almost every modulation, from the mellow tones of the wood thrush, to the savage screams of the bald eagle. In his native groves, mounted on the top of a tall bush, in the dawn of a dewy morning, while the woods are already vocal with a multitude of warbles, his admirable song rises pre-eminent over every competitor. The ear can listen to his music alone. Nor is the strain altogether imitative. His own native notes are bold and full, and varied seemingly beyond all limits. They consist of short expressions of two, three, or five and six syllables, generally interspersed with imitations, all of them uttered with great emphasis and rapidity; and continued for an hour at a time with undiminished ardor. His expanded wings and tail, glistening with white, and the buoyant gaiety 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 Mr Bartram has beautifully expressed it, “He bounds aloft with the celerity of an arrow, as if to recover or recall his very soul, expired in the last elevated strain." While thus exerting himself, a bystander would suppose that the whole feathered tribes had assembled together on a trial for skill- so perfect are his imitations.

The mocking-bird loses little of the power and energy of his song by confinement. In his domesticated state, when he commences his career of song, it is impossible to stand by uninterested. He whistles for the dog; Cæsar starts up, wags his tail, and runs to meet his master. He squeaks out like a hurt chicken, and the hen hurries about with hanging wings and bristling feathers, clucking to protect her injured brood. The barking of the dog, the mewing of the cat, the creaking of the passing wheelbarrow, follow with great truth and rapidity. He repeats the tune taught him by his master, though of considerable length, fully and faithfully. He runs over the quiverings of the canary, and the clear whistlings of the Virginia nightingale, or red-bird, with such superior execution and effect, that the mortified songsters feel their own inferiority, and become silent, while he seems to triumph in their defeat by redoubling his exertions.

This excessive fondness for variety, however, in the opinion of some, injures his song. His elevated imitations of the brown thrush, are frequently interrupted by the crowing of cocks; and the warblings of the blue-bird, which he exquisitely manages, are mingled with the screaming of swallows, or the cackling of hens; amidst the simple melody of the robin, we are suddenly surprised by the reiterations of the whippoorwill; while the notes of the kildeer, blue jay, martin, Baltimore, and twenty others, succeed with such imposing reality, that we look round for the originals, and discover, with astonishment, that the sole performer in this singular concert is the admirable bird before us. Both in his native and domesticated state, during the solemn stillness of night, as soon as the moon rises in silent majesty, he begins his delightful solo, and serenades us the livelong night with a full