ORNITHOLOGICAL NOTES FROM A SOUTH LONDON SUBURB. 
Many varieties have come under my observation here. A 
very pretty brown bird — similar in colour to a “cinnamon” 
canary —I noted in.Dulwich Park for four years. It was a 
male and never varied much, merely becoming lighter in colour 
and cleaner-looking in the spring. In 1903 T saw a pure white 
bird for one day only; this, too, was in Dulwich Park, where, 
in that same year, there were two other birds showing white 
to a large extent about the head, neck, or back. A bird with 
a pale grey back I watched for nearly a twelve-month in our 
streets. Still slighter varieties, such as those with a single 
white feather in tail or wing, are yearly to be seen. 
GREENFINCH. 
This breeds now sparingly in the local parks, and, more- 
over, in ever-lessening numbers. The song begins about the 
end of March, and the well-known “wheeze” with the nest- 
building, whilst the queer wavering flight—-so like that of a 
Noctule Bat—is exhibited, I believe, only after the hen bird 
begins to sit, for this performance, with the accompanying 
stuttering song, is not seen in the early days of courtship. The 
song itself is not often heard after mid- summer, but the annoy- 
ing “wailing note, uttered by the birds when in anxiety about 
their young, is often continued much later. 
Formerly a regular westerly passage of small parties in 
October was witnessed yearly, but has occurred only irregularly 
during the last ten Gas or so; still, there is always an increase 
in the number of these birds about our gardens and the parks 
in that month. The species is particularly fond of sunflower 
seeds, and in October wandering individuals soon discover my 
plants. 
CHAFFINCH. 
The Chaffinch is now by no means a plentiful species as 
a breeding bird, although distributed fairly about the district. 
The song “begins between the middle and end of February, as 
a rule, and continues until June. The bird would be commoner 
with us but for the bird-catchers who, formerly at any rate, 
infested the birds haunts on Sundays with their caged decoys 
and limed twigs; no bird, I believe, answ ering more readily to 
the song- challenge than the unfortunate cock Chaffnch. The 
species, ~howev er, is to be seen in abundance here at the time 
of the enormous migrations that take place in October. This 
passage—or rather a view of it—depends upon the prevailing 
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