78 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS. 



the bark from some slender weed for the outside, 

 and pilfers a thistle-top or the silk storeroom of 

 some other plant for a lining. 



An old nest the children brought me last fall 

 had a veritable feather-bed of down in it, on top 

 of the usual silky lining, and it stuffed the cup so 

 full there seemed hardly room enough for the 

 eggs. It looked as if two or three whole thistle- 

 tops had been put in and matted down. 



Last year a pair of goldfinches built in a plum- 

 tree by the side of a carriage drive, so low that 

 on tiptoe I could reach into the nest to count over 

 the eggs from day to day. And what dainty light 

 blue shells they had. Just as if bits of blue sky 

 had fallen into the nest ! The mother-bird must 

 have guessed my delight in her treasures, for she 

 would sit quietly on a tree a few feet away with 

 an air that said quite plainly, " Are n't they dear 

 little eggs ? You can look at them just as long 

 as you like. I '11 wait here till you get through ! '* 



As the goldfinches nest so much later than 

 most birds, the young are barely out before the 

 warblers and other of the birds begin migrating. 

 I have seen the little ones teasing their father for 

 food late in September. One day I saw one fed 

 on the head of a big sunflower. 



I am afraid Mr. Goldfinch is not a good dis- 

 ciplinarian, for his babies follow him around flut- 

 tering their wings, opening their mouths, and 

 crying tweet-ee, tweet-ee, tweet-ee, tweet-ee^ with 



