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In listening to one the other day for about a quarter of an hour, I heard it give three notes of the Swallow, two of the Martin, and two of the Spring-Wagtail; and in addition, notes of the House- Sparrow, Whinchat, Starling, Chaffinch, Whitethroat, Greenfinch, Little Redpole, and Whin-Linnet, besides the notes of half-a-dozen birds which I did not know; at least, a reasoning from analogy would induce me to think them imitations, and I have no right to suppose they were not because I did not happen to recognize them.
It certainly has not got the reputation for mischief in the garden it has in England, as none of the gardeners I asked about it, and who were complaining grievously of the mischief done by birds, ever mentioned the Whitethroat, or knew the bird when asked about it.
You might as well suppose that the whitethroat is aware that nettles will sting the human hand approaching its nest as that eggs are especially adjusted in colour to deceive human eyes. As for deceiving the eyes of those birds that are fond of eating eggs, the thing is impossible; the size of the egg is alone sufficient: how conceal an object of that size from an eye that can distinguish insects?
Country boys set some value on the eggs of the nettle-creeper or whitethroat because the nest is difficult to find, and the eggs curiously marked. They want the eggs as soon as laid, when they blow well; and it is just at this stage that the nest is most difficult to discover, as the bird gives little evidence of its presence.
Take whatever species we will Whitethroat, Whinchat, Willow-Warbler, Red-backed Shrike, it matters not which, for there is no essential difference in the general course of procedure this condition will be found to prevail.
He scolds, and twitters, and chirps, and all at once sinks like a stone into the hedge and out of sight as a stone into a pond. It is a whitethroat; his nest is deep in the parsley and nettles. Presently he will go out to the island apple tree and back again in a minute or two; the pair of them are so fond of each other's affectionate company, they cannot remain apart.
Of course it was on the ground, in the moss and creeping plants, under some bushes of dwarf birch, screened by spruces. The structure closely resembled that of the Whitethroat was lined with grass and fibrous roots; no down, feathers, or fur were observable. The young numbered four. The last woods was the limit of other interesting creatures the Ants.
A slight movement of the leaves on a branch of birch shows that something living is there, and presently the little head and neck of a whitethroat peers over them, and then under, looking above and beneath each leaf, and then with a noiseless motion passing on to the next. Another whitethroat follows immediately, and there is not a leaf forgotten nor a creeping thing that can hide from them.
The blue hills in the distance when rain is about, the grey arras of wet that advances over the plain, the whitethroat that sings or rather scolds above the hedge as he dances on the wing, the tree-pipit or is it another bird? that sinks down to the juniper-tip through a honey of music, a rough sea seen in the distance, half shine, half scowl any of these things may easily cut us off from history and from hope and immure us in the present hour.
The time slips by, a rook emerges from yonder mass of foliage, and idly floats across, and is hidden in another tree. A whitethroat rises from a bush and nervously discourses, gesticulating with wings and tail, for a few moments. But this is not possible for long; the immense magnetism of London, as I have said before, is too near.
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