358 THE BULLFINCH. 



" chi-chup-pi-sue." The pencils which decorate the head of this bird are movable, and are 

 raised or depressed at the will of their owner, thereby producing a very grotesque appearance. 

 It is a remarkable fact that when the bird is dead, they lie so closely among the other feathers, 

 that they can with difficulty be distinguished. 



THE well-known BULLFINCH is, perhaps, rather more familiar as a cage bird than as a 

 denizen of the wood, for it is so remarkably shy and retiring in its habits that it keeps itself 

 sedulously out of sight, and though bold enough in the pursuit of food, invading the gardens 

 and orchards with considerable audacity, it yet has a careful eye to its own safety and seldom 

 comes within reach of gunshot. 



It cares little for open country, preferring cultivated grounds, woods, and copses, and is 

 very fond of orchards and fruit-gardens, finding there its greatest supply of food. This bird 

 seems to feed almost wholly on buds during their season, and is consequently shot without 

 mercy by the owners of fruit-gardens. The Bullfinch has a curious propensity for selecting 

 those buds which would produce fruit, so that the leafage of the tree is not at all diminished. 

 Although the general verdict of the garden-keeping public goes against the Bullfinch, there 

 are, nevertheless, some owners of gardens who are willing to say a kind word for Bully, and 

 who assert that its mischievous propensities have been much overrated. 



It is true that the bird will oftentimes set hard to work upon a fruit-tree, and ruthlessly 

 strip off every single flower-bud, thereby destroying to all appearance the prospects of the 

 crop for that season. Yet there are cases when a gooseberry-bush has thus been completely 

 disbudded, and yet borne a heavy crop of fruit. The reason of this curious phenomenon may 

 probably be, that some of the buds were attacked by insects, and that the kind of pruning 

 process achieved by the Bullfinch was beneficial rather than hurtful to the plant. 



The Bullfinch affords a curious instance of the change wrought by domestication. 



In its natural state its notes are by no means remarkable, but its memory is so good, and 

 its powers of imitation so singular, that it can be taught to pipe tunes with a sweet and flute- 

 like intonation, having some of that peculiar "woody" quality that is observable in the 

 clarionet. It is always captured very young for this purpose, and from the moment of its 

 capture its instruction begins. The teacher keeps his birds separate, and always plays the tune 

 to be learned upon some instrument, such as a bird-organ or a flageolet, as soon as he has 

 given them their food. The latter instrument always turns out the best birds, as those which 

 are taught with the bird-organ acquire that mechanical precision of note and total absence 

 of feeling which renders the notes of a grinding organ so obnoxious to musical ears. 



The birds are always apt to forget their lesson during the moulting season, and if they are 

 permitted at that time to hear other birds, they pick up notes that are entirely foreign to the 

 air which they are meant to perform, and so make a sad jumble. I once knew a piping Bull- 

 finch, a very amusing bird, who had forgotten the first two or three bars of "Cherry-ripe," 

 and always iised to commence in a most absurd manner in the very middle of a phrase. 

 He always finished with a long whistle, as of surprise, and then began to chuckle and hop 

 about the table as if greatly charmed with his own performance. He had a great wish to teach 

 me to pipe, and used to give me lessons every time I saw him. Sometimes I would pur- 

 posely go wrong in the tune, when he would break off his piping, scold harshly, and begin 

 afresh. 



The Bullfinch is a remarkably tamable and loving bird, and is easily affected by predilec- 

 tion or dislike for different persons, generally holding fast by its first impulse. The bird 

 which I have just mentioned was most absurd in the violence of his feelings. He was fond of 

 scudding about on a bare mahogany table, and liked to lift up knitting-needles and let them 

 fall, merely for the pleasure of hearing them rattle against the wood. But towards the lady to 

 whom the said needles belonged he had an unappeasable enmity, and so jealous was he, 

 that when she was working at the same table, she dared not touch her thread or scissors 

 without looking to see whether Bully were near, for if he could do so he always dashed across 

 the table and pecked her fingers, hissing loudly with anger, and all his feathers ruffled up. 



The lady who was in possession of General Bern gives a very interesting account of a Bull- 



