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SECTION XIII.

Sky Lark.

Alauda arvensis.-LINN.

THE length of this species is seven inches, one-fourth; the breadth twelve and a-half; the tongue broad and cloven; the bill slender; the under mandible dusky, the lower yellow; above the eyes is a yellow spot; the crown of the head a reddish brown, spotted with deep black; the hind part of the head ash-colour; chin white. It has the faculty of erecting the feathers of the head. The feather on the back, and coverts of the wings, dusky, edged with reddish brown, which is paler on the latter; the quill feathers dusky; the exterior web edged with white, that of the others with reddish brown, the upper part of the breast yellow, spotted with black; the lower part of the body of a pale yellow; the exterior web, and half of the interior web, next to the shaft of the first feather of the tail, are white; of the second only the exterior web; the rest of those feathers dusky; the others are dusky, edged with red; those in the middle deeply so, the rest very slightly; the legs dusky; soles of the feet yellow; the hind claw very long and straight.

This and the wood-lark are the only birds that sing as they fly; this raising its note as it soars, and lowering it till it quite dies away as it descends. It will often soar to such a height, that we are charmed with the music when we lose sight of the songster; it also begins its song before the earliest dawn. Milton, in his Allegro, most beautifully expresses these circumstances; and Bishop Newton observes, that the beautiful scene that Milton exhibits of rural cheerfulness, at the same time gives us a fine picture of the regularity of his life, and the innocency of his own mind; thus be describes himself as in a situation

To hear the lark begin his flight,
And singing startle the dull night,
From his watch tower, in the skies,

'Till the dappled dawn doth rise.

It continues its harmony several months, beginning early in the spring, on pairing. In the winter they assemble in vast flocks,

grow very fat, and are taken in great numbers for our tables. They build their nest on the ground, beneath some clod, forming it of hay, dry fibres, &c. and lay four or five eggs.

The place these birds are taken in the greatest quantity, is the neighbourhood of Dunstable; the season begins about the 14th of September, and ends the 25th of February: and during that space. about 4000 dozen are caught, which supply the market of the metropolis. Those caught in the day are taken in clap-nets of fifteen yards length, and two and a-half in breadth; and are enticed within their reach by means of bits of looking-glass, fixed in a piece of wood, and placed in the middle of the nets, which are put in a quick whirling motion, by a string the larker commands: he also makes use of a decoy lark. These nets are used only till the 14th of November, for the larks will not dare, or frolic in the air, except in fine sunny weather; and of course cannot be inveigled into the snare. When the weather grows gloomy, the larker changes his engine, and makes use of a trammel-net, twenty-seven or twenty-eight feet long, and five broad; which is put on two poles, eighteen feet long, and carried by men under each arm, who pass over the fields and quarter the ground as a setting-dog; when they hear or feel a lark hit the net, they drop it down, and so the birds are taken.

[Pennant.

SECTION XIV.

Nightingale.

Motacilla luscinia.-LINN.

THE nightingale takes its name from night, and the Saxon word galan, to sing; expressive of the time of its melody. In size it is equal to the redstart; but longer bodied, and more elegantly made. The colours are very plain. The head and back are of a pale tawny, dashed with olive; the tail is of a deep tawny red; the throat, breast and upper part of the belly, of a light glossy ash-colour: the lower belly almost white; the exterior web of the quill-feathers are of a dull reddish-brown; the interior of brownish ash-colour: the irides are hazel, and the eyes remarkably large and piercing; the legs and feet a deep ash-colour.

This bird, the most famed of the feathered tribe for the variety;

length, and sweetness of its notes, visits England the beginning of April, and leaves us in August. It is a species that does not spread itself over the island. It is not found in North Wales; or in any of the English counties north of it, except Yorkshire, where they are met with in great plenty about Doncaster. They have been also heard, but rarely, near Shrewsbury. It is also remarkable, that thiş bird does not migrate so far west as Devonshire and Cornwall; counties where the seasons are so very mild, that myrtles flourish in the open air during the whole year: neither are they found in Ireland. Sibbald places them in his list of Scotch birds; but they certainly are unknown in that part of Great Britain, probably from the scarcity and the recent introduction of hedges there. Yet they visit Sweden, a much more severe climate. With us they frequent thick hedges, and low coppices; and generally keep in the middle of the bush, so that they are very rarely seen. They form their nest of oak-leaves, a few bents and reeds. The eggs are of a deep brown. When the young first come abroad, and are helpless, the old birds make a plaintive and jarring noise, with a sort of snapping, as if in menace, pursuing along the hedge the passengers.

They begin their song in the evening, and continue it the whole night. These their vigils did not pass unnoticed by the ancients; the slumbers of these birds were proverbial; and not to rest as much as the nightingale expressed a very bad sleeper *. This was the favourite bird of the British poet, who omits no opportunity of introducing it, and almost constantly noting its love of solitude and night. How finely does it serve to compose part of the solemn scenery of his Penseroso, when he describes it.

In her saddest sweetest plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of night;
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke,

Gently o'er the accustom❜d oak;

Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly,
Most musical, most melancholy !

Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among,

I woo to hear thy evening song.

* Elian Var. Hist. 577, both in the text and note. It must be remarked that nightingales sing also in the day.

In another place he styles it the solemn bird: and again speaks

of it,

As the wakeful bird,

Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert bid,

Tunes her nocturnal note.

The reader must excuse a few more quotations from the same poet, on the same subject; the first describes the approach of evening, and the retiring of all animals to their repose:

Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were slunk; all but the wakeful nightingale,
She all night long her amorous descant sung.

When Eve passed the irksome night preceding her fall, she, in a dream, imagines herself thus reproached with losing the beauties of the night, by indulging too long a repose:

Why sleep'st thou, Eve? now is the pleasant time,
The cool, the silent, save where silence yields

To the night-warbling bird, that now awake,
Tunes sweetest his love-laboured song.

The same birds sing their nuptial song, and lull them to rest. How rapturous are the following lines! how expressive of the delicate sensibility of our Milton's tender ideas!

The earth

Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill;

Joyous the birds: fresh gales and gentle airs,
Whisper'd it to the woods, and from their wings
Flung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub,
Disporting, till the amorous bird of night
Sung spousal, and bid haste the evening star,
On his hill-top to light the bridal lamp.
These lull'd by nightingales, embracing slept;
And on their naked limbs the flowery roof
Shower'd roses, which the morn repair'd.

These quotations from the best judge of melody, we thought due to the sweetest of our feathered choristers; and we believe no reader of taste will think them tedious.

Virgil seems to be the only poet, among the ancients, who hath attended to the circumstance of this bird's singing in the night-time.

Qualis populeâ morens Philomela sub umbrâ
Amissos queritur fœtus, quos durus arator
Observans nido implumles detraxit: at illa
Flet noctem, ramoque sedens miserabile carmen
Integrat, et moestis late loco questibus implet.

As Philomel in poplar shades, alone,

Georg. IV. 1. 511.

For her lost offspring pours a mother's moan,
Which some rough ploughman marking for his prey,
From the warm nest, unfledg'd, hath dragg'd away;
Perch'd on a bough, she all night long complains,
And fills the grove with sad repeated strains.

F. WARTON.

Pliny has described the warbling notes of this bird, with an elegance that bespeaks an exquisite sensibility of taste: notwithstanding that his words have been cited by most other writers on natural history, yet such is the beauty, and in general the truth of his expressions, that they cannot be too much studied by lovers of natural history. We must observe notwithstanding, that a few of his thoughts are more to be admired for their vivacity than for strict philosophical reasoning: but these few are easily distinguishable.

[Pennant.

SECTION XV.

Red Breast.

Motacilla rubecola.-LINN.

THIS bird, though so very petulant as to be at constant war with its own tribe, yet is remarkably social with mankind; in the winter it frequently makes one of the family; and takes refuge from

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