92 THE FRIENDSHIP OF NATURE 



take them in from the numbing cold, 

 and in spring to let them fly away. 

 One was an English goldfinch and the 

 other a siskin. Each had a cage with 

 water and food, placed in a subdued 

 light, to calm its strugglings more 

 easily. The siskin was of a Byronic 

 mood, fought against comfort, twisted 

 the cage wires, would neither eat nor 

 drink, and in the morning I found him 

 hanging dead with his head between 

 the bars. The goldfinch, when I 

 brought him home, let me hold his 

 draggled body in my hands, until their 

 warmth had unbent his stiffened claws, 

 so they might grasp the perch; then 

 he shook himself, took a sip of water 

 and a seed or two, and fell to smooth- 

 ing out his wings and coat, pluming 

 slowly. If a feather hung besmeared 

 and broken he bravely pulled it out, 

 and, his self-respect restored, he settled 



