  “When we look out there, it makes us feel thankful that we have a nice cosy room to play in and a warm fire to sit beside.” It was Uncle George who spoke. His two nephews, Frank and Tom, stood at the window watching the birds feeding outside, while Dolly, their little sister, was busy with her picture-blocks on the carpet. “Yes, it is better to be inside in winter,” said Frank, the elder boy. “These poor little birds must have a hard time out in the cold all night.” “I should not mind being a bird during the rest of the year, though,” said little Tom. “It must be so jolly to be able to fly wherever you like.” Uncle George smiled, and said, “Birds are very happy little creatures, Tom, but they have many enemies. Their lives are in constant danger. They must always be on the look-out for cats, hawks, guns, and cruel boys. Those birds that stay with us all the year round have often a “Most of our birds fly to warmer countries in autumn, and come back to us in spring. These miss the frost and snow, but a great number of them get drowned while crossing the sea. I think, as a little boy, you are much better off. “Let me see; have you put out any food for the birds this morning?” “Yes, Uncle George, we have done exactly as you told us,” said Frank. “Mother made a little net, which we filled with suet and scraps of meat for the tomtits. We hung it on the ivy, quite near the window. We also put plenty of crumbs and waste bits from the kitchen on the space you cleared for the birds yesterday.” “Very good,” said Uncle George, “and I see your feathered friends are busy in both places.” He looked out and saw a crowd of birds hopping on the frozen lawn round the well-filled dish. The little net, which hung just outside the window, was alive with hungry tomtits. They pecked eagerly at the suet, and chattered their thanks between every mouthful. “What a lot of birds we have to-day,” Uncle George remarked. “Do you know the names of them all, boys?” “We know those you pointed out to us yesterday,” said Frank. “There is the chaffinch, the thrush, the greenfinch, the blackbird, and the hedge-sparrow, but I don’t know that one with the bright red breast, black velvet head, and grey wings. And there is a new one among the tomtits. He has a very long tail, and is like a small parrot.” “Oh,” said Uncle George, “the first you spoke of is the bullfinch. He is so easily tamed that he makes a splendid pet. The hen bullfinch is there too, I see. She has a dull brown breast, and is not quite so pretty as her husband. The bullfinch is very fond of berries. If we could get some hawthorn or rowan berries, we should have all the bullfinches in the district around us. The other bird is the long-tailed tit. He is also a very amusing little chap.” Bullfinches. “Why do the tomtits make such a fuss about the suet?” asked Tom. “The bullfinches do not come near it.” “That is because the tomtit is a flesh-eater, Tom. He lives on insects. The bullfinch feeds on berries “Where are all the insects in winter, Uncle George?” asked Frank. “Well, most of them are buried deep in the ground. Some of them are tucked up in warm cases, and hidden in the chinks of trees and walls.” “Then why don’t the birds that feed on insects search those trees and walls for them,” Frank asked. “So the birds do, but the sleeping insects are very hard to find. The cases which hold them are often coloured exactly like the tree or wall which they are fixed to; so that even the sharp eyes of a hungry bird cannot see them.” Exercises on Lesson I.
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