36 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. 
like that of a hundred little wicker cages of canaries 
suddenly uncovered by a bird fancier. Where did they 
come from? Ten minutes before none were there. 
‘Ten minutes later they were gone again. They were 
the first that I had seen this spring, and the few 
minutes that I watched them seemed to jump the cal- 
endar from April to the middle of summer. This 
habit of congregational singing seems to belong partic- 
ularly to the gold finches. None of the other oscines 
indulge in it to any extent. The concert of the .black- 
birds is merely a recital. 
The yellow birds generally remain in flocks until 
near the middle of summer, when they separate in pairs 
to begin nesting. Then a “new song is put into their 
mouths.” The solos commence, and are entirely differ- 
ent from the choruses of the early season. After this 
time, one associates them with the purple thistles of 
the pastures, the silky pods of the milkweeds by the 
country roads, and the waving fields of flax with blue 
blossoms and shining seed bolls. 
The gold finches follow civilization, and are found 
sparingly in newly settled parts of the country, and 
not beyond the frontier. 
With the exceptions of the cedar birds they are the 
latest in the season to nest, seldom beginning till 
July, when the leaves are thickest. Building materials 
are then more plentiful, and the soft, milky seeds, 
most suitable for the young, are more easily obtained. 
Last year at Portage I found a brood of half-fledged 
birds the 20th day of September. In the city, 
