Part 27

Upper plumage uniform brown tinged with chestnut; tail rufous; under parts greyish white; flanks pale ash. Length, six inches and a quarter.

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The nightingale is the only songster that has been too much lauded, with the inevitable result that its melody, when first heard, causes disappointment, and even incredulity. More than once it has been my lot to call the attention of someone who had not previously heard it to its song, at the same time pointing out the bird; and after a few moments of listening, he or she has exclaimed, ‘That the nightingale! Why, it is only a common-looking little bird, and its song, that so much fuss is made about, is after all no better than that of any other little bird.’ And then it is perhaps added: ‘I don’t think the nightingale--if the bird you have shown me is the nightingale--sings so well as the thrush, or the blackbird, or the lark.’ The song is, nevertheless, exceedingly beautiful; its phrasing is more perfect than that of any other British melodist; and the voice has a combined strength, purity, and brilliance probably without a parallel. On account of these qualities, and of the fact that the song is frequently heard in the night-time, when other voices are silent, the nightingale was anciently selected as the highest example of a perfect singer; and, on the principle that to him that hath shall be given, it was credited with all the best qualities of all the other singers. It was the maker of ravishing music, and a type, just as the pelican was a type of parental affection and self-sacrifice, and the turtle-dove of conjugal fidelity. Only, when he actually hears it for the first time, the hearer makes the sad discovery that the bird he has for long years been listening to in fancy--the nightingale heard by the poet with an aching heart, and the wish that he, too, could fade with it into the forest dim--was a nightingale of the brain, a mythical bird, like the footless bird of paradise and the swan with a dying melody. Beautiful, nay, perfect, the song may be, but he misses from it that something of human feeling which makes the imperfect songs so enchanting--the overflowing gladness of the lark; the spirit of wildness of the blackcap; the airy, delicate tenderness of the willow-wren; and the serene happiness of the blackbird.

The nightingale arrives in this country about the middle of April, returning to the same localities year after year, apparently in the same numbers. It is scarcely to be doubted that the young birds that survive the perils of migration come back to the spot where they were hatched, since the species does not extend its range nor establish new colonies. It is most common in the southern counties of England, above all in Surrey, but rare in the western and northern counties, and in Scotland and Ireland it is unknown.

The nightingale so nearly resembles the robin in size, form, and manner that he might be taken for that bird but for his clear, brown colour. Like the robin, he feeds on the ground, seeking grubs and insects under the dead leaves, hopping rapidly by fits and starts, standing erect and motionless at intervals as if to listen, and occasionally throwing up his tail and lowering his head and wings, just as the robin does. He inhabits woods, coppices, rough bramble-grown commons, and unkept hedges, and loves best of all a thicket growing by the side of running water.

Two or three days after arriving he begins to sing, and continues in song until the middle, or a little past the middle, of June, when the young are hatched. In fine weather he sings at intervals throughout the day, but his music is more continuous and has a more beautiful effect in the evening. For an hour or two after sunset it is perhaps most perfect. In the dark he is silent, but if the moon shines he will continue singing for hours. That is to say, some birds will continue singing; as a rule, not half so many as may be heard during daylight.

The nest is nearly always placed on the ground beneath a hedge or close thicket; it is rather large, and composed of dry grass and dead leaves loosely put together, the inside lined with fine dead grass, rootlets, and vegetable down. The eggs are four or five in number, and of a uniform olive-brown colour.

During incubation and after the young are hatched the parent birds display the most intense solicitude when the nest is approached, and flit from bough to bough close to the intruder’s head, incessantly repeating two strangely different notes--one low, clear, and sorrowful, the other a harsh, grinding sound.

The return migration is in August and September.

Whitethroat.

Sylvia cinerea.

Head ash-grey tinged with brown; rest of upper parts reddish brown; wings dusky, the coverts edged with red; lower parts white faintly tinged with rose colour; tail dark brown, the outer feathers white on the tips and the outer web, the next only tipped with white. Female without the rosy tint on the breast. Length, five and a half inches.

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The whitethroat, or greater whitethroat, as the name is sometimes written, is one of the commonest and best known of the soft-billed songsters that spend the summer and breed in our country. It inhabits all parts of the British Islands, excepting the most barren. Even to those who pay little attention to the small birds that come in their way the whitethroat is tolerably familiar, less on account of its song, which is in no way remarkable, than for the excited notes and actions of the bird, sometimes highly eccentric, which challenge attention. The whitethroat is, moreover, readily distinguishable from its colour--the reddish brown hue of its upper plumage and the unmistakable white throat, which give it a conspicuous individuality among the warblers. It inhabits the wood-side, the thickets, the rough common, but of all places prefers the thick hedge for a home. Shortly after the bird’s arrival, about the middle or near the end of April, he quickly makes his presence known to any person who walks along a hedgeside. The intruder is received with a startled, grating note, a sound expressive of surprise and displeasure, and, repeating this sound from time to time, the bird flits on before him, concealed from sight by the dense tangle he moves amidst. Presently, if not too much alarmed, he mounts to a twig on the summit of the hedge to pour out his song--a torrent of notes, uttered apparently in great excitement, with crest raised, the throat puffed out, and many odd gestures and motions. Sometimes he springs from his perch as if lifted by sheer rapture into the air, and ascends, singing, in a spiral, then drops swiftly back to his perch again. It is a peculiar song on account of its vehement style and the antics of the singer, more so when he flies on before a person walking, now singing, now moving farther ahead in a succession of wild jerks, then suddenly ducking down into the hedge. It is also a pleasing song in itself, although for pure melody the whitethroat does not rank very high among the greatly gifted birds of its family, or sub-family. If we include the nightingale and robin, it should be placed about the sixth on the list, the other singers that come before it being the willow-wren, blackcap, and garden warbler.

The nest of the whitethroat is a round, flimsy structure, formed of slender stalks of grass and herbs, and lined with horsehair, and is placed two or three feet above the ground, in the brambles and briers of the hedge, or in a large furze-bush. The five eggs are of a greenish white, speckled with olive, and sometimes blotched and marked with grey and light brown. One brood only is reared. Nettle-creeper is a common name for this bird, on account of its love of weeds, especially of nettles, no doubt because the small caterpillars it feeds on are most abundant on them. It is also fond of fruit, wild and cultivated, and visits the gardens near its haunts to feed on currants and raspberries.

Lesser Whitethroat.

Sylvia curruca.

Head, neck, and back smoke-grey; ear coverts almost black; wings brown edged with grey; tail dusky, outer feather as in the last species, the two next tipped with white; lower parts nearly pure white; feet lead colour. Length, five and a quarter inches.

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The difference in size between this warbler and the one last described is very slight; still, there is a difference; and the descriptive epithet of lesser would also be a suitable one if applied in another sense. He is a less important bird. To begin with, he is much rarer, being only of local distribution in England and Scotland, and unknown in Ireland; in colouring he is more obscure; his trivial song has nothing in it to attract attention; he is shyer in habits, passes much of the time among the higher foliage of the trees he frequents, and is, consequently, not often seen.

He arrives in this country about or shortly after the middle of April, and is found in thickets and copses, and hedges in the neighbourhood of trees. Like most of the warblers, he is exceedingly restless, and moves incessantly among the leaves, picking up the aphides and minute caterpillars, and from time to time darts into the air to capture some small passing insect. Like the common whitethroat, he is also fond of ripe fruit, especially currants and raspberries. He is often on the wing, passing directly from place to place with an undulating flight and rapidly-beating wings. When singing he swells his throat out, and delivers his strain with considerable vigour; but his song is of the shortest, and is composed of one or two notes, hurriedly repeated two or three times without variation, and with scarcely any musical quality in it. No sooner is it finished than the bird is off again on his flitting rambles among the leaves and twigs; it is less like a song than an exclamation of pleasure--a cheerful call that bursts out from time to time.

The lesser whitethroat nests in orchards, coppices, thick hedgerows, bramble and furze bushes on commons, and among tangled vegetation overhanging streams, but in all cases the nest is placed in the midst of a dense mass of foliage. This is a somewhat loosely made and shallow structure, composed of dry grass-stems and small twigs, bound together with cobwebs and cocoons, and lined with fine rootlets and horsehair. Four or five eggs are laid, in ground-colour white or dull buff, blotched and speckled with greenish brown, with underlying markings of purplish grey.

Blackcap.

Sylvia atricapilla.

Head above the eyes jet-black, in the female chocolate-brown; upper parts, wings, and tail ash-grey slightly tinged with olive; throat and breast ash-grey; belly and under wing-coverts white. Length, five and a half inches.

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This brilliant songster arrives in this country about the middle of April, in some years considerably earlier. It is found throughout England and Wales, and extends its range to Scotland and Ireland, only in lesser numbers. Though widely distributed it is rare, except in some districts in the southern and western counties of England. A person familiar with the ornithological literature of this country, but having little personal knowledge of the birds, who should go out to make acquaintance with the blackcap, would be surprised at its rarity. After much seeking, he would probably come to the conclusion that, speaking of warblers only, there are at least half a hundred willow-wrens, and perhaps twenty whitethroats, to one blackcap. Another curious point about the blackcap is that it appears to be almost unknown to the country people. It is a rare thing to find a rustic, man or boy, who knows it by that or any other name, though he may be quite familiar with the redstart and whitethroat. On these last two points I find that my experience coincides with that of John Burroughs, the American writer on bird life, in the accounts of his observations on British song-birds. There is a third point on which I also agree with him; this, however, is not a question of fact, but of opinion or of individual taste, and refers to the merit of the blackcap as a singer. His is a song which has always been very highly esteemed, and it has often been described as scarcely inferior to that of the nightingale. Gilbert White of Selborne described it as ‘a full, deep, sweet, loud, wild pipe; yet that strain is of short continuance, and his motions are desultory; but when that bird sits calmly and engages in song in earnest, he pours forth very sweet, but inward, melody, and expresses great variety of soft and gentle modulations, superior, perhaps, to those of any of our warblers, the nightingale excepted.’ After reading such a description it is a disappointment to hear the song. Nevertheless, it is very beautiful, and given out with immense energy, as the bird sits on a spray with throat puffed out, and moves its head, sometimes its whole body, vigorously from side to side. The song is a clear warble composed of about a dozen notes, rapidly enunciated, loud, free, of that sweet, pure quality characteristic of the melody of our best warblers. The strain is short, and repeated from time to time, the intervals often being filled by lower notes, sweet and varied--the ‘inward melody’ which White describes. Burroughs’s description of the song is as follows: ‘While sitting here I saw, and for the first time heard, the black-capped warbler. I recognised the note at once by its brightness and strength, and a faint suggestion in it of the nightingale’s; but it was disappointing: I had expected in it a nearer approach to its great rival.... It is a ringing, animated strain, but as a whole seemed to me crude, not smoothly and finely modulated. I could name several of our own birds that surpass it in pure music. Like its congeners, the garden warbler and the whitethroat, it sings with great emphasis and strength, but its song is silvern, not golden.’ This account of the blackcap’s song is interesting as coming from a foreigner who has paid great attention to the bird music of his own country, and it is on the whole a very good description; but I should not say that the blackcap’s strain is crude, however wild and irregular it may be; nor that there is in it even a faint suggestion of the nightingale’s.

In its active, restless habits this warbler resembles the other members of its group; but it exceeds them all in shyness. When approached it becomes silent, and conceals itself in the interior of the thicket. It frequents woods and orchards; also hedges and commons where large masses of furze and bramble are found, especially in the vicinity of trees. The nest is made of dry grass, lined with hair or fibrous roots, and is placed in the forked branches of a thick bush, three or four feet above the ground. The eggs, of which five or six are laid, are of a light reddish colour, mottled and blotched with darker red and reddish brown. They vary greatly, both in the depth of colour of the mottlings and in the pale ground-tints.