The Birds' Calendar 



Thus I shall never forget the first song of 

 the European goldfinch as it greeted the morn- 

 ing sun on the last day of February. Much as 

 it resembles that of the American species it is 

 distinctly different — so rich, liquid, and bub- 

 bling. The captious critic would say it is not 

 all that could be desired — nothing is, for that 

 matter — for with all its luscious and exuberant 

 qualities it is characterless as regards /'6';';;/, as in 

 our own species, but without the wiriness and 

 undertone of petulance so often found in the 

 latter. It is a most valuable accession to the 

 avifauna of this country, and may it live and 

 thrive, and never regret its translation to these 

 shores. 



Leaving the finch to its own jubilation, I 

 soon heard the sharp chuck ^ uttered singly, of 

 the downy woodpecker. These woodpeckers 

 are not singers, even in the most charitable 

 construction of the term, and it is difficult to 

 interpret their state of mind from the sounds 

 they make. Doubtless he was as happy as the 

 finch, only lacking the gift to express himself; 

 like the swans, that plainly feel the exhilaration 

 of spring warmth as much as anybody, and wax 

 exceedingly vociferous if not melodious thereat. 



Farther on the simple carol of the song spar- 



C6 



