104 IN BIRD LAND. 
trim little mother on her cradle, covering her chil- 
dren to keep them warm, her reddish-brown tail 
daintily reaching out through the doorway. She did 
not fly up as I bent lovingly over her, and presently 
I stole away, desirous not to disturb her. 
The bush-sparrow is a captivating little bird, 
graceful of form and sweet of voice, singing his 
cheerful trills from early spring until far past mid- 
summer. “he Song makes me think Yor <a, silver 
thread running through a woof of golden sunshine, 
carried forward by a swinging shuttle of pearl. I 
think the figure 1s’ not ‘far-fetched: Hie is quite 
partial to a dense little thorn-bush for a nesting- 
place, often concealing his grassy cottage so cun- 
ningly that you must look sharply for it among the 
leaves and twigs, or it will escape your eye. 
One of the neatest and prettiest denizens of my 
clover-field was the goldfinch. Wings of black and 
coat of bright yellow, he went bounding through 
the ether, rising and falling in graceful festoons of 
flight, in such a lightsome way he seemed to be 
rocking himself on the breeze. How jauntily he 
wore his tiny black cap, little exquisite of the field 
that he is, to whom I always go hat in hand! He 
deserves a monograph all to himself, but at this time 
I can spare him only a few paragraphs. 
As a rule, the goldfinches prefer to build their 
nests in small trees, often selecting the maples along 
the suburban streets of the city. I was greatly 
surprised, therefore, to find a nest in my clover- 
field, where there were no trees at all. Noticing a 
