338 THE CHAFFINCH. 



There is something peculiarly pleasing to me in the song of this 

 bird. Perhaps association of ideas may add a trifle to the value of 

 its melody ; for when I hear the first note of the chaffinch, I know 

 that winter is on the eve of his departure, and that sunshine and fine 

 weather are not far off. His first song tells me that in a day or two 

 more we shall hear the cooing of the ringdove, and see it rise and fall 

 in the air, as it flies from grove to grove, and that this pretty pigeon, 

 so shy and wary during the winter, will, in a day or two more, allow me 

 to approach within ten paces of it, as it feeds on the new springing 

 verdure of the lawn. Say, ye learned in ornithology, say what is it 

 that causes this astonishing change in the habits of the ringdove ; and 

 forces it, I may say, to come close to our dwellings, and to coo 

 incessantly from early February into late October ; and then to shun 

 our society abruptly, as though we had never befriended it at all? 

 The chaffinch never sings when on the wing ; but it warbles inces- 

 santly on the trees, and on the hedgerows, from the early part of 

 February to the second week in July ; and then (if the bird be in a 

 state of freedom) its song entirely ceases. You may hear the thrush, 

 the lark, the robin, and the wren, sing from time to time in the dreary 

 months of winter; but you will never, by any chance, have one single 

 note of melody from the chaffinch. Its powers of song have sunk 

 into a deep and long lasting trance, not to be roused by any casualty 

 whatever. All that remains of its voice, lately so sweet and so ex 

 hilarating, is the shrill and well-known monotonous call, which be- 

 comes remarkably distinct and frequent whenever the cat, the owl, 

 the weasel, or the fox are seen to be on the move. 



We are told that in the winter season the female chaffinches separ- 

 ate from the males, and migrate into distant countries. I have not been 

 able to ascertain that so ungallant a divorce takes place in this part 

 of the country. The chaffinches assemble here with their congeners 

 during the period of frost and snow, and you may count amongst 

 them as many females as males. 



Sad and mournful is the fate which awaits this harmless songster 

 in Belgium and in Holland, and in other kingdoms of the Continent. 

 In your visits to the towns in these countries, you see it outside the 

 window, a lonely prisoner in a wooden cage, which is scarcely large 

 enough to allow it to turn round upon its perch. It no longer en- 



