THE GOLDFINCH 



birds were killed, for then she wouldn't be obliged to feed 

 the prowlers. The goldfinches soon learned that when I 

 was there they could feast in safety. More than once 

 when I was in the house or on the porch I would hear their 

 alarm cry of De-de? de-de? sound from a maple near the 

 piazza, plainly calling for my aid. When I went out to 

 the garden and drove away their feline foes, the cries 

 would cease. The angry owner of the cats, who dared 

 not remonstrate further with me, cut down the sunflowers! 

 My most beautiful memory of goldfinches is associated 

 with one of their spring mating-festivals. My sister and 

 I had read Burroughs's description of these love-feasts, so 

 we were prepared to understand what the unusual chorus 

 meant. The sweet call-notes of the males, interspersed 

 with rapturous bursts of melody and frequent flutterings 

 met with quick response from the olive-and-gold females, 

 who chirped and said "Yes" with a joy pleasant to see! 

 It is impossible to convey adequately any idea of the ex- 

 quisite tenderness of their voices, of the absence of quar- 

 reling and jealousies, — of the perfect harmony of the pro- 

 ceeding. I can only wish that every person who loves 

 birds might some time have the pleasure of a similar ex- 

 perience. 



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