This bird weighs about two or nearly three drachms; the length varies
from four inches and a half to five inches.
This species is nearly the same size as the hay-bird. In its plumage it
so much resembles that bird, that we shall only make mention here of
some essential marks of distinction, and refer our readers to the
hay-bird.
Its general colour is not so much tinged with yellow, and the legs are
dusky, which in the other are brown.
The plumage of the sexes are alike.
These two birds have been, and are, frequently confounded, and with them
the wood wren of this work; but this last is at once distinguished by
the under tail-coverts being a pure white, and the plumage of a more
lively green on the upper parts than either of the others. The nest,
eggs, and notes, will be found also different by consulting and
comparing the history of each. This is the first of all the migrative
warblers (_Sylviadæ_) in its annual visit, and is, perhaps, the only one
that has occasionally been observed with us during the winter, and that
only in the milder parts of England. It is generally heard on or before
the first of April repeating its song, if that may be so called which
consists only of four notes, which seem to express the words _chip,
chop, cherry, churry_, four or five times successively. It is a busy,
restless bird, always active among the trees and bushes in search of
insects. From its early cry in our neighbourhood, we long suspected it
would be found that this hardy little bird did not wholly quit us, and
in this opinion we were confirmed by seeing one in the garden about
Christmas, 1806. In the following January, we observed two of these
little creatures busied in catching the small insects which a bright day
had roused in great abundance about some fir trees, by springing upon
them from the ends of the branches, one of which we succeeded in
shooting. Another, which we killed in 1808, on the same spot, while
feeding upon a small species of _culex_, weighed one drachm thirty-three
grains; this will easily account for the very early cry of this bird in
the spring, as it is highly probable that they remain with us the whole
year, but are wholly silent in the winter. The earliest we ever heard
was on the 14th of March, 1804, when vegetation was unusually early.
The nest of this species is oval, with a small hole near the top,
composed externally of dry leaves, and then coarse dry grass, and lined
with feathers; and is generally placed on or near the ground, frequently
on a ditch bank, in a tuft of grass or low bush. The eggs are six in
number, white, speckled with purplish red at the larger end only, with
here and there a single speck on the sides.
It seems to be the hardiest and most generally diffused of all our
summer visitants; and is found in all parts of the kingdom where wood or
hedges afford it shelter and food. Its note is heard long after the
hay-bird is silent. Dr. Latham says this is called in Dorsetshire the
hay-bird; but as we are inclined to believe the three species before
mentioned have been confounded, it is more probable that our hay-bird
should obtain that name, as its nest is composed of that material.
Mr. Sweet tells us, "it is readily taken in a trap baited with small
caterpillars. They soon get familiar in confinement; when first caught,
they should, if possible, be put with other birds, and they will readily
take to feed on bruised hemp-seed and bread, and on bread and milk,
which must at first be stuck full of small insects, or a quantity of
aphides may be shaken off a branch upon it; when they have once tasted
it they will be very fond of it. One that I caught took to eat it
directly, and became so familiar, that in three or four days it would
take a fly out of the hand. It also learnt to drink milk out of a
tea-spoon, of which it was so fond, that it would fly after it all round
the room, and perch on the hand that held it, without showing the least
symptoms of fear. It would also fly up to the ceiling, and bring down a
fly in its mouth every time. At last it got so very tame, that it would
sit on my knee by the fire and sleep; and when the windows were open, it
would never attempt, nor seemed to have the least inclination, to fly
out; so that I at last ventured to entice it out in the garden, to see
whether it would return. I with difficulty enticed it out at the door
with a spoon of milk; it returned twice to the room; the third time it
ventured into a little tree; it then fled and perched on my hand, and
drank milk out of the spoon; from thence it flew to the ground on some
chickweed, in which it washed itself, and got into a holly-bush to dry.
After getting among the leaves, I could see no more of it, but heard it
call several times. I suppose after it got quite dry that it left the
country directly, as I could never see or hear it afterwards, and it was
then the end of November, when all the others had left for some
time[105]."