[Illustration: cluster of flowers] The Missel Thrush measures something like eleven and a half inches in length, and is the largest member of its family inhabiting our islands. It is, perhaps, more numerous now than it has ever been before, owing to the long succession of mild, open winters we have enjoyed and the fact that during the last century it has greatly increased its breeding range both to the North and West. In 1800 it was unknown in Ireland, but is now abundant in that country. On its upper parts the Missel Thrush is ash-brown in colour, and buffish-white below, marked with blackish-brown spots. It may always be distinguished from the Song Thrush by its larger size, greyer colour, and by the fact that when on the wing it shows a conspicuous white stripe down either side of its tail. This bird loves small woods, well-timbered parks, orchards, and tree-fringed streams common in the dales of the North of England. Its nest is built in the fork of a tree or on a strong horizontal branch at varying heights of from three to forty feet from the ground, but I have never seen it in such a bush as the Song Thrush would be likely to patronise. Sometimes it is small and well concealed, but at others it is large and quite conspicuous. Occasionally I have found it adorned on the outside with lichen matching that growing on the tree wherein it was built, and even with green ivy leaves harmonising with the moss clinging to the trunk of the tree in which it was situated; but, on the other hand, I have found nests ornamented with large pieces of wool waving in the wind, and even the large wing feathers of a white barn-door Fowl. The nest is constructed of a few slender twigs (sometimes these are quite absent), grass stems, moss, mud, and wool, with an inner lining of fine, dead grass. The eggs, numbering four or five, vary from greyish-green to reddish-grey in ground colour, marked with brownish-red spots. [Illustration: NEWLY FLEDGED MISSEL THRUSHES] The Missel Thrush, or Storm Cock as it is called in many parts of the country, from its habit of singing on the topmost branches of tall trees during wet, windy weather, is one of our very earliest feathered vocalists. I have heard it piping its bold, defiant notes as early as in December in the South of England and as late as the end of June in the Highlands of Scotland, and have found its nest and eggs from the end of February until the middle of June. Although by no means a first-class melodist, the Storm Cock has some very sweet notes, and the unpleasant climatic conditions under which he frequently delivers them seem to enhance their value. I have often listened to him, brave bird! whilst he was swaying to and fro on the topmost branch of some wind-swept tree, and I could only catch a note here and there, the rest being carried away on a chord of the storm.