Bird vocalisation
Bird vocalisation includes both bird calls and bird songs. In non-technical use, bird songs are the bird sounds that are melodious to the human ear. In ornithology and birding, songs (relatively complex vocalisations) are distinguished by function from calls (relatively simple vocalisations).
Quotes
[edit]- The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.
- Song of Solomon 2:12 (KJV)
- Spring, the sweete Spring, is the yeres pleasant King,
Then bloomes eche thing, then maydes daunce in a ring,
Cold doeth not sting, the pretty birds doe sing,
Cuckow, jugge, jugge, pu we, to witta woo.The Palme and May make countrey houses gay,
Lambs friske and play, the Shepherds pype all day,
And we heare aye birds tune this merry lay,
Cuckow, jugge, jugge, pu we, to witta woo.The fields breathe sweete, the dayzies kisse our feete,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every streete, these tunes our eares doe greete,
Cuckow, jugge, jugge, pu we, to witta woo
Spring, the sweete Spring.- Thomas Nash, "Song", in Summer’s Last Will and Testament (1600)
- The mounting lark (day’s herald) got on wing,
Bidding each bird choose out his bough and sing.
The lofty treble sung the little wren;
Robin the mean, that best of all loves men;
The nightingale the tenor, and the thrush
The counter-tenor sweetly in a bush.
And that the music might be full in parts,
Birds from the groves flew with right willing hearts;
But (as it seem’d) they thought (as do the swains,
Which tune their pipes on sack’d Hibernia’s plains)
There should some droning part be, therefore will’d
Some bird to fly into a neighb’ring field,
In embassy unto the King of Bees,
To aid his partners on the flowers and trees
Who, condescending, gladly flew along
To bear the bass to his well-tuned song.
The crow was willing they should be beholding
For his deep voice, but being hoarse with scolding,
He thus lends aid; upon an oak doth climb,
And nodding with his head, so keepeth time.- William Browne, "A Concert of Birds", in Britannia's Pastorals, I (1613)
- It’s not their fault they do not know
The birdsong from the radio.- John Betjeman, "Slough", in Continual Dew (1937)
- I grant the Linet, Larke, and Bul-finch sing,
But best, the deare, good Angell of the Spring,
The Nightingale.- Ben Jonson, adapting a fragment of Sappho, in The Sad Shepherd (1641), II, v
- All day I heard your high heart-broken laughter,
Swallow, and, hearing, cried, ‘Is there no place
Or time when you forget, Pandîon’s daughter,
Your maidenhood, and Têreus, King of Thrace?’- Pamphilus, Anthologia Palatina, IX, 57 (tr. Humbert Wolfe)
- My mournful voice the pitying rocks shall move,
And my complainings echo thro' the grove.- Ovid, Metamorphoses, VI, 412–503 (tr. John Dryden)
- What Bird so sings, yet so dos wayle?
O ’tis the ravish’d Nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, tereu, shee cryes,
And still her woes at Midnight rise.
Brave prick song! who is’t now we heare?
None but the Larke so shrill and cleare;
Now at heavens gats she claps her wings,
The Morne not waking till shee sings.
Heark, heark, with what a pretty throat
Poore Robin red-breast tunes his note;
Heark how the jolly Cuckoes sing
Cuckoe, to welcome in the spring,
Cuckoe, to welcome in the spring.- John Lyly, song from Alexander and Campaspe (1584), V, i
- Above the antique mantel was displayed
As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene
The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king
So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale
Filled all the desert with inviolable voice
And still she cried, and still the world pursues,
“Jug Jug” to dirty ears.- T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land (1922)
