10 T H:E A UD BON BU Dib eee 
others who may steal the honey without leaving pollen in exchange. Nature 
is a provident dame and conserves her own interest at any expense. 
Compared with my visit in May the woods seem strangely silent, except 
for the plaintive pewee and that tireless talker, the vireo. Occasionally the 
dove cooed and a catbird warned me to keep away from certain bushes. 
Bulk counts less than activity and swiftness of attack in bird life. The 
spectacle of a meddling crow being driven from his own stronghold by the 
fierce harrowing of a brave cardinal has just given me pleasure. 
Goldfinches are most numerous at this time. Unlike the joyless flat 
hunter of the city, they are seeking nesting sites in happy yellow and black 
bands, always keeping an eye out for largest attractions in seed stores. 
They scallop the air in flight and embroider it with the silvery notes of 
their ‘“‘per-chic-o-ree.” When they say in their sweet confiding tones “ba- 
bee,” with a rising inflection, there seems nothing dearer in bird language. 
Most bird families are now engaged in the momentous question of education, 
CHICAGC ACADEMY OF SCIENCES PHOTO 
Goldfinch 
but the happy goldfinches have a long wooing and a late nesting. They eye 
with favor the long rows of sunfiowers planted for them. The beauty of this 
cheerful flower does not depart with its orange petals, for, later, its heavy 
head is brilliant with the yellow goldfinch to whom its seeds are a feast, 
whether he eats them upside down or not. * * * * 
This morning I awoke at a pre-arranged signal of the dawn to listen 
for my feathered friends and learn if any had deserted me. The first word 
was a gentle twitter of a robin who nearly always starts things, followed 
by the indigo bunting weaving his unpatterned song, and much like it the 
chitter-chatter of the wren. Sweeter, because the song is broken into verses, 
was. the song sparrow, interrupted by a sharp query from the oriole. The 
wood pewee was on hand with his “mis-a-ree’” sometimes rising into “vic- 
to-ree,” and like a wood-wind came the coo of the mourning dove. 
