# The Zoologist/4th series, vol 2 (1898)/Issue 687/The Autumn Song of Birds

Published in: The Zoologist, 4th series, vol 2, issue 687 (September, 1898), p. 410–412
THE AUTUMN SONG OF BIRDS.
By Charles A. Witchell.
The songs of birds are worth investigating; but before progress can be made in the knowledge of the why and wherefore of these songs, we must ascertain how and when they occur. The last particular is especially important. It is very well to attribute the songs of birds to an erotic origin; but that will hardly account for the Robin and Starling recommencing in July or the first few days of August. Nor will it account for autumnal songs which are preceded by a period of silence (e.g. the Chiffchaff), or which are followed by a silence, which is not the case with the Robin and Starling. The September songs of Willow Wren and Chiffchaff are so exceedingly few and far between, as compared with the spring songs, that they may very probably proceed from birds that did not breed in spring, or whose nests were destroyed.
My particular reason for calling attention to this theme is that my own observations seem to conflict with some other records. This may be due to the fact that I have always been "an early bird"; while other observers with less exacting avocations may be more of midday or evening observers. When articled and subsequently in a practice at Stroud, where most of my observations were made, I never loafed after birds during office hours, but was out on nearly half the fine mornings from 6 or 6.30 till 9 o'clock a.m.
In a paper on the autumn song of birds (Zool. 1894, p. 410) Mr. O.V. Aplin says that the Willow Wren (after being silent from mid-June) strikes up again about the second week in August. The words "strike up" are, however, also applied to the Robin and Starling in November or October. Mr. Aplin has assured me that the remark does not, in the case of the latter birds, mean commencing to sing, but the employment of a new style of song. As, however, in the same paper he has a special reference to the Starling as singing in October (why October, ​when it begins early in August?), I can only regret that Mr. Aplin was here less careful than usual in expressing his meaning. Unfortunately for me, Mr. Aplin, while not in the least minding my attempting to correct him, found it impossible to believe that I had supposed him ignorant of the singing of the Robin and Starling early in August. But that is just what an ornithologist of repute might overlook. To take a similar instance: How many generations have observed the Swift! Yet, how many scientists will admit its night-flight as a fact? The mimicry of wild Lark and Thrush: how long has it been admitted? It may be denied that the latter mimics the Crow or Land Rail, for its pipe is not suited to coarse cries; but its general mimicry is bound to be admitted sooner or later.
The only previous letter I had received from Mr. Aplin described the wonderful mimicry of a bird which was carefully identified as a Sedge Warbler. But Mr. Warde Fowler told me that in the opinion of the listener the bird ultimately resolved itself into a Marsh Warbler.
Returning to autumn songs. I heard the Wren and Robin nearly every morning from July 7th to August 15th; but not once the Chiffchaff. That bird has a true autumn song, though only one or two here and there indulge in it.
As to the Willow Wren, I have made careful observations on every day but two from June 1st to August 19th. Those two days were cold and wet, so probably there was then nothing to observe. In June and July I observed at morning and evening. My opportunities were easy. In front of my cottage is a small meadow, flanked on two sides by a dense thicket, so I have only to open a window to hear the birds. In the back garden I am within hearing of two other thickets. I pass three others on my way to the railway station, which I reach by nine o'clock.
The Willow Wren has this interesting feature (due perhaps to pugnacity), that when one begins to sing, another will begin almost at the same moment; and when many are in song at the same spot, their successive descending songs make a sort of "chiming," very sweet to hear. I do not know any other bird with this habit. In May the chiming can be heard all day. I am sending a copy of my notes to the Editor, and will here only summarize them.
​The Willow Wrens sang every day but one in June, the 27th, which was wet and cold. From three to five or six were heard at the same time on every fine warm morning. On cold mornings only one or two could be heard.
The evening song (after seven) was abandoned early in July. July 13th was cold, and no Willow Wren sang; 14th, two, occasionally. From 15th to 24th two could generally be heard in the morning; sometimes one. On 25th (7 to 8 a.m.) four or five were singing, sometimes chiming. 26th to 28th, five or six could be heard. 29th and 30th, cold; one heard. Thence to August 14th from one to three or four could be heard, except on the 7th, which was wet. From 14th to 17th two could generally be heard. On 18th none. 19th, two occasionally. 23rd to 28th, none.
There was no doubt of the song when audible. When two or three were singing I heard about twelve phrases per minute (counted). If any were singing I never had to listen for a minute without hearing them.
But though this year the Willow Wrens were not silent in the latter half of June, I had previously formed the opinion that in some years they are so silent, although the species is otherwise our most persistent summer singer. Had I never risen before nine o'clock I should never have noticed the July singing. Since the middle of July it has been the sole Warbler in song.
I may say I have observed the July singing of this bird for many years. A particular incident fixes my memory of one occasion of the kind. More than twenty years ago, at Stroud, I was developing into what the Americans might appropriately term a "collector-fiend," and wished to "procure" a Willow Wren. It was on the 15th of July I went to a thicket where these birds swarmed, and I shot two with a catapult, but found them in heavy moult. Another came along; he sang beautifully, and I shot him. He fell, but rose again and sat on a twig, with one thigh shattered and hanging loose. But he sang his little strain. Another came and attacked him, and he flew a few yards, while I crept after like a murderer. He sang again, his wings pulsating with the notes. I shot him dead. His death probably saved the lives of many birds, for it made me give up the procuring of specimens. But it also made me remember that the Willow Wren sings in mid-July.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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