This bird may be easily distinguished from the Spring Wagtail by its note when flying—­yet, notwithstanding the difference is very apparent to a person who hears them both, it is not so easily described.  In attempting to do so, therefore, I hope I shall be excused if I don’t make the difference so apparent in the description as it is in reality.  The latter part of the note of the Grey Wagtail when flying is higher in the musical scale than the former part, and is very staccato, thus:  [BAR OF MUSIC] generally being uttered as the bird makes a spring in the air, [10] whilst the latter part of the note of the summer-bird is lower in the scale than the former part, which is more prolonged than in the note of the Grey Wagtail, and is slurred into the latter part, something in the following manner:  [BAR OF MUSIC] Of course I don’t mean it to be understood that these notes are either of the same pitch, or that they bear the same relation to each other that the notes of the bird do, but as a rude attempt at illustrating what I could not explain in any other way.

A singular habit which I have noticed in several individuals of this species (M. sulphurea) has amused me exceedingly.  They were in the habit of looking at their own images in the windows and attacking them, uttering their peculiar cry, and pecking and fluttering against the glass as earnestly as if the object they saw was a real rival instead of an imaginary one (a friend who observed it, insisted that, Narcissus-like, it was in an ecstasy of self-admiration).  What is more remarkable, two of these instances occurred in the autumn, when one would not suppose the same motives for animosity to exist that would probably actuate them in the spring.

The first of these instances was when I was a boy, and was repeated daily for several weeks, both against the windows of my father’s house and those of our neighbour, who, being rather superstitious, was alarmed about it, and came to consult my mother on the subject.  She said there was a bird which her brother told her was a barley-bird (Motacilla flava), which was continually flying against her windows, and as birds were not in the habit of doing so generally, she thought something serious was portended by it.  My mother comforted her as well as she could, and I undertook to rid her of the annoyance, which I did by setting a horsehair-noose on one of the window-ledges which it frequented.  I soon caught it, and by plucking out the under-tail coverts, with which I wanted to dress yellow duns, I effectually cured it of the propensity—­whether, Narcissus-like, it was in an ecstasy of self-admiration, or like the cock which attacked its own image in the boot (which Mr. Robert Warren’s poet and painter have immortalized), it would admit of no rival.

It has been suggested, and I think with great probability, that the bird was merely attempting to catch the flies which it saw on the inside of the panes of glass; but certainly it was not so silent about it as these birds generally are when they are feeding.