FEMALE BLACKCAP WARBLER FEEDING YOUNG.
In Letter XL. to Pennant, he says, “The Blackcap has a full, sweet, deep, loud and wild pipe; yet that strain is of short continuance, and his motions are desultory; but when that bird sits calmly and engages in song in earnest, he pours forth very sweet, but inward melody, and expresses great variety of soft and gentle modulations, superior perhaps to those of any of our warblers, the Nightingale excepted.”
Everyone who has heard and seen the Blackcap will at once recognise the truth and accuracy of this; but, strangely enough, Gilbert White never once mentions the Garden Warbler in his writings.
The estimate of a wild bird’s song is like that of the voice of a public singer—to some extent a matter of individual opinion. Personally, though by no means disposed to underrate the beauty and power of the Blackcap’s song, I do not think that it approaches so near in quality to that of the Nightingale, or is so far superior to that of the Garden Warbler as some observers appear to believe.
The Blackcap is a very shy, retiring bird, preferring to be heard rather than seen. The male takes his share of the duties of incubation, and it is said that he beguiles the tedium of his task by singing whilst sitting on the nest. I have watched him brooding on several occasions, but in spite of long vigils have never had the gratification of hearing a single note.
Curiously enough, the poets have given this superb singer very little attention, probably because they were seldom in a position to identify the vocalist, however much they admired his music.
The alarm note of this species sounds something like tack-tack or teck-teck.
