As soon as the young are hatched the song ceases, and a harsh croak is the only sound emitted as he watches us passing near his nest. One brood only is reared, and then they seem to disappear from our “ken.” Shy and silent birds, always keeping to the thick cover, they spend a few weeks quietly, feeding on the abundance of insects provided at this time of year, and then when the moult is over and they are strengthened for their journey, they leave us for their sunny winter home in Africa, while we remain behind to cherish, amidst gales and rain, the memories of those glad spring nights. The plumage above is warm brown, passing to reddish brown on the tail and tail coverts; under parts greyish white, buffish on the flanks and breast. The young have light centres to the feathers of the upper parts and are indistinctly barred on the breast. Length 6·5 in.; wing 3·35 in. In our islands this species has a very restricted range, being only known to the south-east of a line from the Humber to the Severn. In Shropshire and South Wales it is sometimes heard, and the same may be said of Devonshire, where, however, of late years a pair or two have nested annually. (This species sometimes exceeds in size the Greater Nightingale or “Sprosser,” which has been recorded from this country, but our bird may always be recognised by the larger bastard primary, which in the “Sprosser” is minute.) THE WHITETHROAT Sylvia cinerea, Bechstein [Illustration: WHITETHROAT _Sylvia cinerea_] Quiet and unobtrusive in his colouring, and like all his class retiring in his habits, this extremely common summer visitor is often hardly noticed. Early in April the Whitethroats begin to arrive, and from then to the end of the month populate our hedgerows in ever-increasing numbers. When he first comes he may be seen sitting on some outstanding twig or on the telegraph wires that border the road, trilling forth his short but pleasing song, which, like that of most warblers, is a mere medley of notes put together without any apparent order or meaning, though to our little brown friend himself it is doubtless pleasing, and it is indicative of the vigour and energy he feels with the prospect of the return of summer. Anon he will drop from his perch into the hedge, throwing up his tail as he does so, rather after the manner of a Blackbird, and will rapidly wend his way by means of short leaps from twig to twig, giving him apparently a creeping motion, whence his local name of “Nettle-creeper.”