THE FINCHES 205 



changing into fluffy seed-vessels, were a paradise for Gold- 

 finches. But the growth of towns and cities, and the using 

 up of one tract of land after another for cultivation or for 

 building, have driven away the Goldwing, as the country- 

 folk used often to call him. 



You will readily guess why that is so. Firstly, he is 

 a true bird of the open country, unlike the Chaffinch who 

 loves the hedgerow lane, or the Hawfinch who may be 

 looked for in the quiet woods. Secondly, he finds his 

 favourite food-supply destroyed. Neither the villa garden 

 nor the ploughed field can make up to him for the rich 

 feast which Nature provided, and which man has destroyed. 



Thistle-Finch was another old name for him, and in 

 Germany he bears the same : so particularly fond is he of 

 this food. 



It is one of the prettiest sights in the English bird-world 

 to watch a Goldfinch clinging to a thistle-crown. The tall 

 stiff stem is quite strong enough to bear the bird's light 

 weight, though it may sway to and fro. Suddenly he will 

 spring away, sending a shower of downy seeds falling, and 

 dart off to some other tall stalk that looks as if it would be 

 worth searching for ripe seed. 



A poet who loved all beautiful things and grieved to 

 leave them so early — John Keats — has a passage in one of 

 his first poems, picturing these birds, which were common 

 enough round London in his day — 



"Sometimes Goldfinches one by one will drop 

 From low hung branches ; little space they stop ; 

 But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek; 

 Then off at once, as in a wanton freak : 

 Or perhaps, to show their black and golden wings. 

 Pausing upon their yellow flutterings." 



That last line is wonderfully true to life, as you will learn 



