Vol. XVI 
1898 J 
Bruce, A Month 'with the Goldfinches. 
24I 
mate. After the dainty meal was finished they would talk 
together for a moment before he left her for another flight into 
the big sunshiny world. Life in this miniature home was very 
sweet and harmonious, and the golden bird in the tiny tree 
with its treasure of a nest made a charming picture. 
For the next four weeks I visited the orchard daily. They 
were quiet hours I spent there, but there was no lack of enter- 
tainment. For music the Field Sparrows sang to me their 
simple, plaintive songs, and from far up on the hills I could 
sometimes hear the chant of the Hermit Thrush. A pair of 
Chipping Sparrows in a neighboring apple tree were bringing up 
their only child with quite as much solicitude as if they were bur- 
dened with a large family. They were a striking contrast to the 
serene and happy Goldfinches, but, plain little brown folks as 
they were, I enjoyed watching them. Sometimes young Warblers, 
looking strangely unlike their parents, visited the orchard, or a 
bevy of Crows from a maple grove near by, disturbed by a pass- 
ing Hawk, startled me out of my day dreams. I wondered if the 
little Goldfinch had as many resources as I, or if the hours seemed 
long to her. Perhaps she too dreamed day dreams and listened 
to the music of nature. She seldom left the nest, though I 
occasionally startled her off by some sudden movement, when she 
reproached me for my carelessness in the sweetest of voices. 
When I first looked into the nest there were six eggs, white, 
with faintest tinge of blue, and pretty enough to satisfy any bird 
mother, but my little girl friend had told me that there were but 
two eggs laid when the bird began to sit, and I was curious 
to know whether there would not be a marked difference in the 
age of the young ones. After two week’s patient waiting the 
little mother and I were rewarded by finding among the pretty 
eggs a very ugly birdling. On my afternoon visit there were 
three little birds, the next day four, and on the day following I 
counted five heads. By this time the mother did not sit con- 
stantly on the nest, but cunningly tucked the remaining egg under 
the little birds and went on short excursions into the country. 
Whether the young ones did not do their duty, or whether it was 
another instance of the survival of the fittest I cannot tell, but 
when the oldest nestling was five days old I again counted heads 
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