The Zoologist/4th series, vol 5 (1901)/Issue 726/Miscellaneous Jottings on Bird Songs, Gill

by Edwin Leonard Gill

 

MISCELLANEOUS JOTTINGS ON BIRD SONGS.

By E. Leonard Gill.

 

Those who for any purpose have had to estimate the reliability of records sent in by different people—of such occurrences, say, as the arrival of migrants—will have found that the field of observation of many persons has curious limits. Many sportsmen are keen and accurate observers of game-birds and wildfowl, and yet know practically nothing of the other birds they so constantly meet; while people who have earned and deserve a reputation as good ornithologists on account of their wide general acquaintance with birds and their eggs, are often quite unable to recognize any but the most obvious of bird notes; a fact which at once discounts the value of their records of the arrival of summer migrants. It is remarkable, for example, how few people can distinguish the song of the Redstart; and yet the arrival of this bird in the spring is often made known by its song for more than a week before a chance occurrence gives a glimpse of the bird itself. The Lesser Whitethroat, again, is a bird which, on account of its retiring habits, is very generally overlooked, in spite of the fact that the loud notes at the end of its song make its presence always easy to detect; even in districts—such as parts of Cheshire and the Plain of York—where the Lesser Whitethroat is as common as the Sedge-Warbler, one is often told that it is extremely scarce. Another note which few people seem to know is the scrappy song of the Whinchat, a song which may be compared to that of a Whitethroat borne to the ear in a broken-up fashion on a gusty wind.

The Wood-Wren's song is certainly more commonly recognized, but in this case again it will often be found that people of local repute as ornithologists do not know the note, and are thus quite unable to judge of the bird's presence and numbers in any particular district. It may be here worth while to mention the extraordinary abundance of the Wood-Wren in Wales—at any rate, in the summer of 1901 and in the district lying between Harlech, Dolgelly, and Towyn. In Mr. Howard Saunders's 'Manual of British Birds' the Wood-Wren is stated to be "found in suitable localities throughout England, and, more sparingly, in Wales"; but nowhere in England has the writer met with it in such remarkable numbers as in the lovely wooded valleys of the part of Wales spoken of above. It is no exaggeration to say that it was there at least twice as numerous as the Willow-Wren or Whitethroat, or any other of the Warblers. The Wood-Wren often uses a curious wailing cry, generally when an intruder is near its nest, but often also at other times; this cry consists of a series of about eight loud notes, regularly timed, sometimes maintained at the same pitch, but more often sinking slightly so that the last note of the series is about one tone of an octave below the first. The effect of this is very striking, and arrests the attention in a moment.

There are people who believe they can invariably tell the Garden Warbler's song from the Blackcap's; in fact, the writer until recently held that opinion in regard to himself. But his confidence was shaken in the early summer of this year (1901) by experience in a large Yorkshire woodland, where both these birds were singing in some number. There is, of course, no difficulty whatever in distinguishing the typical Garden Warbler's song from the typical Blackcap's; the difficulty comes in when the discovery is made that the Blackcap is in the habit of singing them both. Careful attention will reveal the fact that the Blackcap quite frequently sings for a considerable time a wandering melody that is indistinguishable from that of the Garden Warbler; at the end he may or he may not break out into his own loud and liquid strain, which is a song of fixed length and cadence. It should be understood that what is here referred to as being indistinguishable from the Garden Warbler's song is not the subdued and pretty soliloquy that the Blackcap practically always prefixes to his own typical strain; the notes referred to are so exactly similar in character to the Garden Warbler's that it may be truly said that the Blackcap, on occasion, at least, sings the Garden Warbler's song as well as his own.

Few birds are held in less esteem for their vocal powers than the Snipe; yet some individuals of the species, if not Snipe in general, are capable of a performance that well deserves the name of a song. In the south of Yorkshire is a certain small bog where several pairs of Snipe breed annually. In the centre of a field adjoining the bog stands a large dead tree with only its gaunt main branches left; and it was a customary thing to see a Snipe pitch upon the summit of the topmost limb of this tree, and there give utterance, sometimes for a quarter of an hour at a stretch, to his unique song. This song was loud, vigorous, and sustained, and, though it was quite evidently an elaboration of the ringing cry so often uttered by the Snipe on pitching, it was very considerably modulated. Through the glasses it could be seen that the bill during this performance was held horizontally, and that the head was continually turned about from side to side. It was, of course, impossible to determine whether it was always the same bird that was responsible for this song; but the song was to be heard quite regularly during, at any rate, one breeding season—that of 1898; and the writer heard it again, still from the same point in the same dead tree, on the only occasion during the following spring on which he was able to visit the bog. Very possibly this singing of the Snipe is one of its normal accomplishments, but the writer has neither seen any mention of it, nor met with the phenomenon itself in any other locality.

The fact has been frequently noticed that many birds will occasionally sing on the wing which do not normally do so. This is commonly to be observed in the case of the Blackbird and Mistle-Thrush, and of the Greenfinch, Sedge-Warbler, and Wood-Wren, One thing is always noticeable about these birds when they are singing on the wing, and that is the peculiar mode of their flight. In every one of them there is a very evident preoccupation of mind; the wings give a slight and neglected stroke and appear to be unusually widely opened, while the resulting flight is slow and sailing. When the Blackbird, Mistle-Thrush, and Wood-Wren are singing on the wing, they are, as a rule, drifting across from one tree to another in a straight line; but the flight of the Greenfinch and Sedge-Warbler is undertaken for the special purpose of the song, and it follows an aimless and erratic course through the air. The Wood-Wren will frequently start its song just as it leaves a tree, and however long its flight may be (it is never of any great length), it maintains throughout it the slower opening phrases of the song, saving up the rapid concluding trill until the moment of its alighting in the second tree.

The most remarkable instance of a bird's singing on the wing that has come under the writer's notice was one furnished by a Chiffchaff. The bird was chasing another, presumably the female, on the outskirts of a wood; the two were flying at an incredible speed close to the ground and near a hedgerow, the pursued making sudden turns and twists, which were followed closely and with perfect precision by the pursuer; and one of them, probably the pursuer, was repeatedly uttering the clear "chip, chop" almost as placidly as though he were singing from his accustomed tree-top. It may be remarked in passing that the powers of flight held in reserve by these smaller Warblers are extraordinary. This fact is occasionally illustrated in a most surprising manner by the Willow-Wren. Just after their arrival in the spring (possibly when only the males are about). Willow- Wrens are exceedingly pugnacious, and one may sometimes be seen to take up a position on a post, or in the lower branches of a tree, and from there to make fierce sallies upon any bird not larger than a Finch that happens to be flying by; it will always take especial pleasure in attacking a Sand-Martin—indeed, the Sand-Martin seems to be a common butt for any small bird's exuberance of spirits; and in every case the Willow-Wren will exhibit on the wing a command both of speed and agility which is in the greatest possible contrast with what one would expect from the everyday deportment of its life. It is a sight that in a measure prepares one's mind for the startling conclusions reached by Gätke, and makes it a little easier to understand how such small and delicate birds as these can conduct with so much speed and success their long migrations overseas.

The slight revival of song that takes place in the autumn has often been remarked upon. The most conspicuous part in it is taken by the Chaffinch, Yellowhammer, Willow-Wren, and Chiffchaff; the Lesser Whitethroat also sings a good deal in early autumn, but omits the string of loud notes that form the ending of his full song—in fact, his autumn song is nothing more than a very subdued warble, so low that it cannot be heard beyond a few yards' distance, and kept up almost continuously whilst he creeps about amongst the bushes. The duration of this autumn singing appears to depend very much on the weather; in the case of the Chiffchaff and Willow-Wren it usually begins with August, and lasts until early in September; but in the phenomenally hot autumn of 1897 the Willow-Wren was singing every day in the south of Yorkshire up to the 30th of September, and the Chiffchaff up to the 3rd of October; whilst in the mild winter which followed, both Chaffinch and Yellowhammer were singing occasionally until well on in December; and both were, once more in song before the end of the following January—the Chaffinch for the first time on January 21st, the Yellowhammer on the 25th.