The song is low, but sweet, and is delivered somewhat hurriedly, both whilst the melodist is perched and upon the wing. The call note sounds like _u-tack_. [Illustration: landscape with open fields] =THE SONG THRUSH.= “The thrush, a spendthrift of his powers, Enrapturing heaven and earth.” MONTGOMERY. [Illustration: leafy branches] There is, luckily, no need for me to enter into a minute description of the appearance of this well-known and greatly beloved carol singer, which is called a Song Thrush in the South, a Throstle in the North of England, and a Mavis in Scotland. It breeds commonly throughout the British Islands wherever there is any kind of cover in the shape of trees, shrubs, or bushes to give it shelter. Some people think that the Song Thrush resides with us all the year round, but this is only partially true. I know many high, bleak parts of the country where it is never seen during the depth of winter, and, as a matter of fact, those that stay with us in the lower and more sheltered regions are only a fraction of the total number bred in our country. [Illustration: SONG THRUSH AT NEST.] The nest of the Song Thrush is built in evergreens, hedgerows, bushes, ivy growing against walls and trees, holes in stone walls, on ledges of rock, on beams in sheds, and occasionally, though not as often as that of the Blackbird, absolutely on the ground. It is quite unlike that of any other British bird in its construction, being made of twigs, coarse dead grass, moss, and clay or mud outside, with an inner lining of clay, mud, or cow-dung studded with bits of rotten wood. In some districts where decayed wood is difficult to procure, it is dispensed with altogether, and during very droughty summers I have found several nests occupied by eggs without a vestige of a hard lining. They were similar to those of the Blackbird, only not so neatly lined with fine dead grass. The mud lining is generally allowed to dry hard before the bird commences to lay. The eggs, numbering from four to six, are of a beautiful deep greenish-blue colour spotted with black. I have on several occasions met with unmarked specimens. [Illustration: NEST AND EGGS OF SONG THRUSH.] As a melodist the Throstle ranks very high. Many people consider that it comes next to the Nightingale, for which it is often mistaken, when singing very late in the evening, by people who can claim no great acquaintance with the superb notes of Sweet Philomel. Mr. Swaysland, of Brighton, who has had a great deal of experience amongst feathered musicians, says that the song of the Mavis is “clear, yet full of mellowness--now pealing out a phrase of wild bluff heartiness, and anon with long-drawn notes tinged with exquisite pathos--striking a responsive chord in the heart of every hearer.” I have heard its song during every month of the year excepting August, when the bird experiences the depression of its annual moult.