PETER: A GOLDFINCH. 
9 
PETER: A GOLDFINCH. 
ARDUELIS ELEGANS” is his full name, though 
the dealer of whom I bought him called him a “grey 
pate.” He was not much to look at then — hardly 
a bright feather on him ; just a splash of yellow in 
his wings, and all the rest a mottled brown. And he was so 
wild ! I thought he would crush his little head in trying to 
force it between the bars of his cage. It made me sad to see 
him, and had it not been severe weather I should have given 
him the liberty he wanted so much. But to liberate him then 
was to send him to a lingering death from starvation, so I kept 
him. 
In a week or two he became more reconciled to confinement, 
and after a lot of coaxing ventured to take a hempseed from off 
my finger. It was most interesting to watch the struggle 
between his timidity and his love of hemp. When the tip of 
the finger with the seed was introduced between the rvires, he 
would slowly sidle along the perch with a most unconcerned 
air, looking at anything but the tiny seed; but just as he got 
within reach his courage would fail him, and off he would go 
with a little shrill chirp, only to commence the operation again. 
The hemp was an attraction he could not resist. He was soon 
back on the perch, working his way slowly along towards the 
coveted morsel. And when at last, by stretching his neck to its 
utmost length, he managed to capture the solitary seed, so jubi- 
lant was he, that he had to make several circuits of the cage 
before he could settle down to eat his prize. 
It was thought now that he might be allowed — as his prede- 
cessors had been — the freedom of the breakfast room, but though 
his cage door was left open for some days, Peter’s timidity 
would not permit him to venture outside. So hempseed was 
again resorted to. A few seeds were spread just outside the open 
door, and after he had tried every method his little brain could 
suggest, and stretched his limbs into every conceivable attitude 
in the endeavour to reach them from off his cage, he ventured 
out, and after one or two experiments he became as much at 
home outside as in. He was now as courageous as he had before 
been timid. He became a fierce “ autocrat of the breakfast- 
table.” Buttered toast was his delight. Hervould settle on the 
edge of the plate, and if one attempted to drive him away before 
he had finished his repast he would resist by force. Up would 
come his feathers ; with wings and beak open he would peck 
furiously at the presented finger, chattering all the while a de- 
fiance which I presume he thought effective, for he was always 
allowed to remain. Then he would take up a position on my 
shoulder, and reprove me with a sharp dig in the neck if I dared 
to eat without first letting him have a peck. When he had had 
his fill he would creep round my coat collar until he could nestle 
in my beard. He seemed to find this a cosy spot, for he would 
