GOLDFINCHES 213 



space, surrounded by old stone-built thatched houses 

 with valerian and ivy-leaved toad-flax and wallflower 

 growing on the crumbling walls. 



At Ryme Intrinseca I was more fortunate. It was 

 a charming village with stone cottages, as is usual in 

 that stone country, and a pretty little church standing 

 in the middle of a green and flowery churchyard. 

 Here there were several small yew trees, and no 

 sooner had I got inside the gate than out fluttered a 

 goldfinch in brilliant feather, emitting his sharpest 

 alarm note. Then from trees and bushes all round 

 where they had been concealed, more goldfinches 

 fluttered forth, until there were twelve, all loudly 

 protesting against my presence at that spot, flitting 

 from tree to tree and perching on the terminal twigs 

 within three or four yards of my head. Never had I 

 seen goldfinches so excited, so bold in mobbing a 

 man: I could only suppose that very few visitors 

 came into that secluded churchyard, where they 

 were breeding, and doubtless a stranger in the place 

 was a much more alarming figure to them than the 

 parson or any of the native villagers would have 

 been. But it was a new and delightful experience 

 to find so many pairs breeding together, making 

 their nests within reach of a man's hand. 



Now as I stood there watching the birds I by 

 chance noticed that a man and his wife and little 

 girl standing at their cottage door hard by were 

 intently and suspiciously watching me. On coming 

 out I went over to them and asked the man how long 

 they had had goldfinches breeding so abundantly 



