WHAT TIME DO BIRDS GET UP.

Bush Advocate, Volume XXII, Issue 64, 17 March 1910, Page 8

WHAT TIME DO BIRDS GET UP.

One of the small compensations for sleepless old age is to lie awake all night while the whole household is asleep and listen to what is going on. I will give you one of my night's experiences as a sample of all. I say nothing of the earlier hours except that I think the blackbird is the last to go to bed. At half-past two the robin's song I hear. At a quarter to three a thrush flies up from somewhere on to the bare branch of an ash tree, and there after stretching out one wing after the other, and then his legs and giving himself a regular wash and brush up—l can see him plainly for the tree is in front of my open window and bed—lie begins his song; his notes at first are rough, as if he had a cold in his throat, but in a short time he pour® forth his music clear and sweet as a nightingale's. » By four o'clock all the trees are alive with a variety of songs of many birds, each one singing his own song regardless of harmony, the whole contributing to one general harmony. By half-past five the music is silent; breakfast-time has arrived, and the lawn is alive with starlings, thrushes, blackbirds, robins and sparrows, alt industriously in search of the early worm. Just facing me is an ancientf oak, now out in full foliage; but the topmost branch stands up above the foliage gaunt and leafless—it has just the look of a dog sitting on its haunches above the leaves and holding up his two front-paws waiting to be fed. At twenty minutes to six to my delight, a cuckoo alighted on this dog's nose and for perhaps a minute or two sang his song lustily; presently another cuckoo flew by, and off we went together—it was a very pretty sight. By this time I felt really inclined to sleep, but a young sparrow in the ivy just above my open window set up such an excruciating and continuous "Chirrup, chirrup," as quite murdered sleep.—E.M., in the "Spectator."