he European cuckoo, on the other hand, seems to be a joyous, vivacious
bird. Wordsworth applies to it the adjective "blithe," and says:--

"I hear thee babbling to the vale
Of sunshine and of flowers."

English writers all agree that its song is animated and pleasing, and
the outcome of a light heart. Thomas Hardy, whose touches always seem
true to nature, describes in one of his books an early summer scene
from amid which "the loud notes of three cuckoos were resounding
through the still air." This is totally unlike our bird, which does not
sing in concert, but affects remote woods, and is most frequently heard
in cloudy weather. Hence the name of rain-crow that is applied to him
in some parts of the country. I am more than half inclined to believe
that his call does indicate rain, as it is certain that of the
tree-toad does.

The cuckoo has a slender, long-drawn-out appearance on account of the
great length of tail. It is seldom seen about farms or near human
habitations until the June canker-worm appears, when it makes frequent
visits to the orchard. It loves hairy worms, and has eaten so many of
them that its gizzard is lined with hair.

The European cuckoo builds no nest, but puts its eggs out to be
hatched, as does our cow blackbird, and our cuckoo is master of only
the rudiments of nest-building. No other bird in the woods builds so
shabby a nest; it is the merest makeshift,--a loose scaffolding of
twigs through which the eggs can be seen. One season, I knew of a pair
that built within a few feet of a country house that stood in the midst
of a grove, but a heavy storm of rain and wind broke up the nest.

If the Old World cuckoo had been as silent and retiring a bird as ours
is, it could never have figured so conspicuously in literature as it
does,--having a prominence that we would give only to the bobolink or
to the wood thrush,--as witness his frequent mention by Shakespeare, or
the following early English ballad (in modern guise):--

"Summer is come in,
Loud sings the cuckoo;
Groweth seed and bloweth mead,
And springs the wood now.
Sing, cuckoo;
The ewe bleateth for her lamb,
The cow loweth for her calf,
The bullock starteth.
The buck verteth,
Merrily sings the cuckoo,
Cuckoo, cuckoo;
Well sings the cuckoo,
Mayest thou never cease."

III

I think it will be found, on the whole