The _Mocking-bird_ seems to be the prince of all song birds, being
altogether unrivalled in the extent and variety of his vocal powers;
and, besides the fulness and melody of his original notes, he has the
faculty of imitating the notes of all other birds, from the humming-bird
to the eagle. Pennant tells us that he heard a caged one, in England,
imitate the mewing of a cat and the creaking of a sign in high winds.
The Hon. Daines Barrington says, his pipe comes nearest to the
nightingale, of any bird he ever heard. The description, however, given
by Wilson, in his own inimitable manner, as far excels Pennant and
Barrington as the bird excels his fellow-songsters. Wilson tells that
the ease, elegance and rapidity of his movements, the animation of his
eye, and the intelligence he displays in listening and laying up
lessons, mark the peculiarity of his genius. His voice is full, strong,
and musical, and capable of almost every modulation, from the clear
mellow tones of the wood thrush to the savage scream of the bald eagle.
In measure and accents he faithfully follows his originals, while in
force and sweetness of expression he greatly improves upon them.
In his native woods, upon a dewy morning, his song rises above every
competitor, for the others seem merely as inferior accompaniments. His
own notes are bold and full, and varied seemingly beyond all limits.
They consist of short expressions of two, three, or at most five or six,
syllables, generally expressed with great emphasis and rapidity, and
continued with undiminished ardour, for half an hour or an hour at a
time. While singing, he expands his wings and his tail, glistening with
white, keeping time to his own music, and the buoyant gaiety of his
action is no less fascinating than his song. He sweeps round with
enthusiastic ecstasy, he mounts and descends as his song swells or dies
away; he bounds aloft, as Bartram says, with the celerity of an arrow,
as if to recover or recall his very soul, expired in the last elevated
strain. A bystander might suppose that the whole feathered tribes had
assembled together on a trial of skill; each striving to produce his
utmost effect, so perfect are his imitations. He often deceives the
sportsman, and even birds themselves are sometimes imposed upon by this
admirable mimic. In confinement he loses little of the power or energy
of his song. He whistles for the dog; Cæsar starts up, wags his tail,
and runs to meet his master. He cries like a hurt chicken, and the hen
hurries about, with feathers on end, to protect her injured brood. He
repeats the tune taught him, though it be of considerable length, with
great accuracy. He runs over the notes of the canary, and of the red
bird, with such superior execution and effect, that the mortified
songsters confess his triumph by their silence. His fondness for
variety, some suppose to injure his song. His imitations of the brown
thrush is often interrupted by the crowing of cocks; and his exquisite
warblings after the blue bird, are mingled with the screaming of
swallows, or the cackling of hens. During moonlight, both in the wild
and tame state, he sings the whole night long. The hunters, in their
night excursions, know that the moon is rising the instant they begin to
hear his delightful solo. After Shakspeare, Barrington attributes in
part the exquisiteness of the nightingale's song to the silence of the
night; but if so, what are we to think of the bird which in the open
glare of day, overpowers and often silences all competition? His natural
notes partake of a character similar to those of the brown thrush, but
they are more sweet, more expressive, more varied, and uttered with
greater rapidity.
The _Yellow breasted Chat_ naturally follows his superior in the
art of mimicry. When his haunt is approached, he scolds the passenger in
a great variety of odd and uncouth monosyllables, difficult to describe,
but easily imitated so as to deceive the bird himself, and draw him
after you to a good distance. At first are heard short notes like the
whistling of a duck's wings, beginning loud and rapid, and becoming
lower and slower, till they end in detached notes. There succeeds
something like the barking of young puppies, followed by a variety of
guttural sounds, and ending like the mewing of a cat, but much hoarser.
The song of the _Baltimore Oriole_ is little less remarkable than
his fine appearance, and the ingenuity with which he builds his nest.
His notes consist of a clear mellow whistle, repeated at short intervals
as he gleams among the branches. There is in it a certain wild
plaintiveness and _naïveté_ extremely interesting. It is not uttered
with rapidity, but with the pleasing tranquillity of a careless
ploughboy, whistling for amusement. Since the streets of some of the
American towns have been planted with Lombardy poplars, the orioles are
constant visiters, chanting their native "wood notes wild," amid the din
of coaches, wheelbarrows, and sometimes within a few yards of a bawling
oysterwoman.
The _Virginian Nightingale_, _Red Bird_, or _Cardinal
Grosbeak_, has great clearness, variety, and melody in his notes,
many of which resemble the higher notes of a fife, and are nearly as
loud. He sings from March till September, and begins early in the dawn,
and repeating a favourite stanza twenty or thirty times successively,
and often for a whole morning together, till, like a good story too
frequently repeated, it becomes quite tiresome. He is very sprightly,
and full of vivacity; yet his notes are much inferior to those of the
wood, or even of the brown thrush.
The whole song of the _Black-throated Bunting_ consists of five, or
rather two, notes; the first repeated twice and very slowly, the third
thrice and rapidly, resembling _chip_, _chip_, _che-che-che_;
of which ditty he is by no means parsimonious, but will continue it for
hours successively. His manners are much like those of the European
yellow-hammer, sitting, while he sings, on palings and low bushes.
The song of the _Rice Bird_ is highly musical. Mounting and
hovering on the wing, at a small height above the ground, he chants out
a jingling melody of varied notes, as if half a dozen birds were singing
together. Some idea may be formed of it, by striking the high keys of a
piano-forte singly and quickly, making as many contrasts as possible, of
high and low notes. Many of the tones are delightful, but the ear can
with difficulty separate them. The general effect of the whole is good;
and when ten or twelve are singing on the same tree, the concert is
singularly pleasing.
The _Red-eyed Flycatcher_ has a loud, lively, and energetic song,
which is continued sometimes for an hour without intermission. The
notes are, in short emphatic bars of two, three, or four syllables.
On listening to this bird, in his full ardour of song, it requires but
little imagination to fancy you hear the words "Tom Kelly! whip! Tom
Kelly!'" very distinctly; and hence Tom Kelly is the name given to the
bird in the West Indies.
The _Crested Titmouse_ possesses a remarkable variety in the tones
of its voice, at one time not louder than the squeaking of a mouse, and
in a moment after whistling aloud and clearly, as if calling a dog, and
continuing this dog-call through the woods for half an hour at a time.
The _Red-breasted Blue Bird_ has a soft, agreeable, and often
repeated warble, uttered with opening and quivering wings. In his
courtship he uses the tenderest expressions, and caresses his mate by
sitting close by her, and singing his most endearing warblings. If a
rival appears, he attacks him with fury, and having driven him away,
returns to pour out a song of triumph. In autumn his song changes to a
simple plaintive note, which is heard in open weather all winter, though
in severe weather the bird is never to be seen.--_Mag. Nat. Hist._
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