The Green-backed Goldfinch 



notes remind some 

 people of their caged 

 pets (poor, tedious 

 beasts) and so our birds 

 get called "wild canar- 

 ies." But half an ear 

 will show that the 

 Green-backs' calls are 

 sweeter and subtler, 

 with the tang of the 

 open and the breath of 

 active experience. There 

 is, beside, a plaintive 

 quality, a little hint of 

 bitter-sweet, about the 

 Goldfinch voice. The 

 bird asks questions of 

 life, Choo-i? choo-i? ques- 

 tions which it quietly 

 answers in a voice of 

 self-chiding: Chooi? 



cheeo! Chooi? cheeo! 

 "Why, of course; I 

 should have known 

 that." As often as the 

 business of rustling food 

 compels the bird to shift 

 ground — and that is 

 pretty often — it signal- 

 izes the movement by a 

 rattle, a musical rattle, like the titter of an excited school-girl. And when 

 attention is seriously turned to song, the bird evinces an astonishing 

 ability. Not only does it pour out a flood of musical chatter, sui generis, 

 but it deftly seizes the notes of all its associates. There is no time for 

 leisurely choice. Song of Flicker, Wren, or Pewee — everything goes, pell 

 mell, into the medley. Bird song is not so much imitated as appropriated. 

 At a single sitting, with a sprig of white sage for a platform and a grass- 

 covered hillside for a concert chamber, I have heard the following com- 

 posers so clearly represented that the ears were incredulous: San Diego 

 Wren, Western Lark Sparrow, Red-shafted Flicker, San Diego Song 

 Sparrow, Western Wood Pewee, House Finch, Western Gnatcatcher. 

 On this occasion another Goldfinch, probably a female, sat within six 



Taken in Riverside County 



Photo by the A uthor 



NEST AND EGGS OF GREEN-BACKED GOLDFINCH, IN 

 VERBA SANTA 



1 93 



