106 IN BIRD LAND. 
on her nest as if glued fast, only glaring at me with 
her wild, beady eyes. At length I softly laid my 
finger on her back, when she uttered a queer, half- 
scolding cry, and leaped up to the nest’s rim, but 
did not fly. There she stood, turning her head and 
eying me keenly until I stole away, unwilling to for- 
feit her confidence and good-will. But when, on 
my way home, I paused a moment to look at the 
bush-sparrow’s nest, the mother flitted away with a 
frightened chirp before I came within reach. She 
was not as confiding as her little neighbor, the 
goldfinch. 
Now mark! On the fifteenth of August the young 
bush-sparrows had become so large and well devel- 
oped that when, meaning no harm, I touched them 
gently with my finger, they flipped out of the nest 
like flashes of lightning. The infant goldfinches 
were not yet more than half fledged, and merely 
snuggled close to the bottom of the nest when I 
caressed them. ‘The idea of flying was still remote 
from their little pates. These observations prove 
that young bush-sparrows develop much more rap- 
idly than young goldfinches; yet, strange as it may 
seem, the goldfinch, when grown, flies much higher, 
if not more swiftly, than his little neighbor, and 
continues longer on the wing. 
On the same day I sat down in the clover, a few 
rods from the goldfinch’s nest, and kept close watch 
on both the old birds and their offspring for an hour 
and a half. The sun attacked me savagely with 
his red-hot arrows, and the sweat broke from every 
