BIRDS' EGGS 73 



But the most common August nest with me 

 early August is that of the goldfinch, a deep, 

 snug, compact nest, with no loose ends hanging, 

 placed in the fork of a small limb of an apple-tree, 

 peach-tree, or ornamental shade-tree. The eggs are 

 a faint bluish white. 



While the female is sitting, the male feeds her 

 regularly. She calls to him on his approach, or 

 when she hears his voice passing by, in the most 

 affectionate, feminine, childlike tones, the only case 

 I know of where the sitting bird makes any sound 

 while in the act of incubation. When a rival male 

 invades the tree, or approaches too near, the male 

 whose nest it holds pursues and reasons or expostu- 

 lates with him in the same bright, amicable, confid- 

 ing tones. Indeed, most birds make use of their 

 sweetest notes in war. The song of love is the song 

 of battle, too. The male yellowbirds flit about from 

 point to point, apparently assuring each other of the 

 highest sentiments of esteem and consideration, at 

 the same time that one intimates to the other that 

 he is carrying his joke a little too far. It has the 

 effect of saying with mild and good-humored sur- 

 prise, " Why, my dear sir, this is my territory; you 

 surely do not mean to trespass; permit me to salute 

 you, and to escort you over the line." Yet the in- 

 truder does not always take the hint. Occasionally 

 the couple have a brief sparring match in the air, 

 and mount up and up, beak to beak, to a consid- 

 erable height, but rarely do they actually come to 

 blows. 



