2o8 THE BOOK OF BIRDS 



the coil of ribbon under his foot till he had eaten as much 

 as he wanted ; then he would lift his foot, and the cart by 

 its own weight ran down again. 



His sweet trustful ways endeared him to others beside 

 myself I have his little stuffed form still, but it gives 

 no idea of the pretty appearance of the bird when he shook 

 out his feathers, and sat, a little ball of grey-green fluffi- 

 ness, regarding me from his perch. 



Quite a list of places in England is given by Mr. 

 Charles Dixon as having harboured the Siskin. But 

 it is usually in the pine forests of Scotland that the 

 nest is found, and often in very tall trees. The seeds in 

 the fir-cones are what he loves. 



But the colder weather drives him south, and then 

 there is the chance of seeing him seed-hunting along some 

 alder-shaded stream. He is often singularly free from 

 shyness, and this makes the work of the bird-catcher 

 unfortunately all too easy. 



Though many Siskins come to us from Germany, their 

 true home is, most likely, the forest regions of Norway and 

 Sweden. 



Few people who have travelled much along the roads 

 and byways of England — walking, cycling, or driving — 

 would deny that the CHAFFINCH is one of the birds 

 most often seen beside the way. 



Happily, he is also one of our handsomest birds. Indeed, 

 a male Chaffinch in good plumage is almost as fine a fellow 

 as a Bullfinch. His song is heard very early in the year, a 

 welcome voice 



"Telling tales about the sun, 

 When there's little warmtli or none." 



The Germans have made quite a study of his song when at 

 its fullest. Writing some fifty years ago, one naturalist 



