236 A CHARMING PILFERER. 



thing, is in favour of my argument, as the insects may reasonably be 

 supposed to make their choice as well as the birds, and that the birds 

 only attack such trees as are infested by these insect pests. 



We fear, however, that the weight of evidence is rather 

 against the Bullfinch. Cuvier and Bechstein both say that 

 it feeds on buds. Mudie particularises the early cherry, 

 the plum, and such trees as have a good supply of farina- 

 ceous matter accumulated in the buds, as the especial 

 objects of his attack, as well as the hawthorn, beech, and 

 pine tribes, where the bird is said to display much dex- 

 terity in extracting the core, and separating it from the 

 scales and turpentine. But the most conclusive evidence 

 is that of Dr. Townson, who thus states the result of an 

 examination of the stomachs of two of the birds : 



Exclusive of a few grains of sand and some small pebbles, I 

 found nothing but embryo flowers. I could discover with the assis- 

 tance of my lens, all the parts of the flowers. The mischief these two 

 little epicures had done, and probably at one breakfast, is incredible. 

 From the quantity of buds I found in their stomachs, each of which 

 was composed of four or five flowers, I think they had not eaten 

 less than a thousand apiece. 



To this the testimony of Knapp and others might be 

 added. But to what purpose ? Clearly, Bully stands con- 

 demned as a pilferer ; yet we cannot help liking him, he 

 sings so sweetly, and dresses so charmingly. And then 

 the poor bird does not know any better. It has been ob- 

 served that, when the female Bullfinch is on her nest, the 

 male bird frequently sits for hours together on some branch 

 in the vicinity, uttering a low plaintive note, or a more 

 continued song, not very remarkable for its sustained 

 melody. By some the single notes which it sometimes 

 utters have been likened to a whoop ; thus we find an 

 anonymous poet saying 



It was a curious mossy cell, 



Woven with twigs and grass and hair, 

 And 'mid the moss six nestlings dwell, 



Concealed by apple blossoms fair ; 

 * "Tis Bully's nest,' Berthea said, 



' His head of glossy jet I spy, 

 His downy breast of softest red ; 



Poor bird ! I hear his whooping cry.' 



