on the successful Nesting of the White-throated Finch. 359


“ The first that ever burst

Into that silent sea?”


I determined, at any rate, to make a good try for it. The chance

of doing something exciting is a chance I have never the

strength of mind to resist. Only at Whitsuntide I had met with

a bitter disappointment: my Bearded Tits had gone to nest, laid,

hatched and dispatched two fine youngsters at a week old.


Witli the coming of the White-throated Finches hope

once more set her bow in the cloud. All last year they spent

their time in eating and drinking and enjoying life. Once or

twice they did fly more or less excitedly about the aviary, as

though searching for a suitable nesting-site, but it all ended in

smoke.


This year the season was well advanced before the minds

of my little friends


“ Biglitly turned to thoughts of love,”

but when they did turn, there was no mistake about it. Up to

now I had always thought them a pair of quiet little unobtrusive

things, illustrating Dr. Watts’ faulty natural history—“Birds in

their little nests agree.” Now, however, all was changed. The

hen more especially became a perfect little fury; she simply

cleared one end of the aviary, and no other bird dared go near.

If they did, they were received with an angry rush and a sound

like that emitted by an exaggerated and very angry bumble bee.


The spot selected for the nest was, to my eye, about the

most unlikely that could have been chosen : right up against the

aviaiy south window, in the full glare of the July sun. The nest

itself is a most lovely structure, so fine and cobwebby that the

light shines through it, and yet at the same time intensely

strong. It is composed of fibrous roots, and the inside is lined

with human hair, saved from our bedrooms. To such vile uses

do we come at last! It was constructed very high up in a bush,

near the roof of the aviary. So terrible was the glare from the

sun that I felt that something must be done to protect the nest,

eggs, hen, and young when hatched, or there would be no

results, but only hard-boiled eggs. I accordingly nailed a large

bit of felt over the glass of the window, outside; a thoughtful

attention, I hope appreciated by the little hen. At any rate, it

did not disturb her in any way.



