86 THE GREENFINCH 
by the resistance of a stone, they either dig round it and loosen it, 
or, if it prove so large as to defy removal, they desist and begin 
another cell. The form of the hole varies both in size and shape, 
but it rarely exceeds three or four inches in diameter, and more 
or less approaches the circular form. The depth varies from a 
few inches to three feet, and the direction seems to depend on the 
nature of the soil encountered. In all, however, the extremity 
of the hole is enlarged to a diameter of five or six inches, and is 
situated above the level of the entrance, so that no rain-water 
can lodge. The work is performed only in the mornings, and is 
consequently carried over several days. The nest itself consists 
of straws of grass and feathers, and is placed in the terminal cham- 
ber. The eggs are five or six in number, pure white, and of a rather 
long shape. 
FAMILY FRINGILLIDA 
THE GREENFINCH 
LIGURINUS CHLORIS 
All the plumage yellowish green, variegated with yellow and ash-grey. Length 
six inches. Eggs bluish white, speckled and spotted with purplish grey 
and dark brown. 
THE Greenfinch, or Green Linnet, is one of our most generally dif- 
fused birds. No bird is a more frequent inhabitant of country gar- 
dens during the summer than this, being attracted, it would seem, 
not so much by the prospect of abundance of food, as by its fond- 
ness for building its nest in evergreens and the thick hedges of 
shrubberies. The lively greenish yellow tint of the plumage on its 
throat and breast sufficiently distinguish it from any other British 
bird ; and its note, when once identified, can be confounded with 
no other song. Let any one who wishes to obtain a sight of one, 
walk anywhere in the country where there are trees, on a bright 
sunny day in May or June, and listen for a monotonous long-drawn 
croak, trying to pronounce the syllable ‘ twe-e-e’ or ‘ bree-eze’. 
No matter what other birds may be tuning their lays, the harsh 
monotone of the Greenfinch, if one be near, will be heard among 
them, harmonizing with none, and suggestive of heat and weariness. 
In a few seconds it will be repeated, without a shadow of variation 
either in tone or duration ; and if it be traced out, the author of the 
noise (music I cannot call it) will be discovered perched among the 
branches of a moderately high tree, repeating his mournful ditty 
with extreme complacency for an hour together. Very often he 
takes advantage of the midday silence of the groves, and pipes 
away without any other competitor than the Yellow Hammer, 
whose song, like his own, is a constant accompaniment of sultry 
