PEGGING EOR CHAFFINCHES. 
yon would think, would be that I was hastening to catch the 
parliamentary train. 
I will assume, then, that you have adopted my plan. You 
pack your traps in the bag (together with a few sandwiches 
maybe), and, setting out at daybreak, make your way to the 
hunting-ground. As soon as your trained chaffinch hears the 
“ pink, pink,” about him, he will at once reply. Proceed 
slowly among the trees, till you hear the sharp pink, pink, of a 
chaffinch overhead ; then unpack. Take out your trained 
finch, put his cage in a dark coloured bag or handkerchief (dark 
green is best), and place him at the foot of the tree. Then in 
the trunk of the same tree, about five feet from the ground, 
and, if possible, beneath an overhanging bough, stick your 
stuffed chaffinch by the spike in the end of the stick on which 
it is mounted. Then take a couple of the whalebone twigs, 
smear them well with bird-lime, and stick them about six inches 
above the stuffed bird. There should be a foot of space between 
the twigs, and the “ stale ” should be at an equal distance from 
each. How you may retire a short distance and leave the rest 
of the business to the bird at the foot of the tree. 
“ Pink, pink !” says the bird in the tree : “ pink, pink !” replies 
your trained finch ; and this will be repeated perhaps half a 
dozen times, and if you look sharp you will have no difficulty 
in discovering the jealous little creature with his hen at his side, 
with his crest erected, and hopping from spray to spray in 
the most uneasy manner. 
Presently your trained bird gets tired of sparring, and 
suddenly breaks away with a rattling “toll-loll-loll-chickweedo! ” 
For an instant the jealous husband is mute with rage, and then 
his voice actually trembles with passion as he plumes himself 
up, and boldly replies to the challenge. “ Toll-loll-loll-chick- 
weedo ” shouts he, and gives his strong beak a whet on the 
bough on which he is sitting. Again your bird raises his voice, 
louder than the first time, and again the wild bird replies, and 
leaving his hen’s side, darts here and there to discover the 
intruder. Once more your bird makes the woods echo, and at 
the same instant the wild chaffinch spies the stuffed bird. He 
is the stranger, — he is the bold singer who has come there 
to captivate the -wild chaffinch’s lawful hen ! With a harsh 
cry down he sweeps, but his vengeful designs are frustrated, 
the artful twigs have caught his outstretched pinions and either 
there he hangs, or there he runs, screaming with fear and 
baffled rage, his wings still distended by the piece of whalebone. 
107 
