  It was Frank who found the chaffinch’s nest in the wood. It was built in the fork of a small tree, about eight feet from the ground. Although not surrounded either by branches or leaves, it was completely hidden, for the cunning little birds had matched the outside of the nest exactly with the bark of the tree. Uncle George got an old chaffinch’s nest from the gardener, and showed the boys how it was constructed. Horse-hair, feathers, and moss were neatly woven together to form the nest. The inside was lined with finer hairs and feathers. The outside was covered with pieces of bark, lichen, and faded moss. These were stuck on with silken threads stolen from spider’s webs. The whole thing looked at a distance more like a part of the tree than a bird’s nest. A CHAFFINCH’S NEST THE THRUSH The next time the boys went to see the nest they found four tiny eggs in it. They were bluish-green in colour, and splashed with red and brown marks. It was while paying a third visit to the chaffinch’s nest that Uncle George found the nest of the song-thrush. High up on a tall tree the cock thrush was pouring out his song, and filling the woods with melody. “Can you see him, boys?” Uncle George asked, and he handed Frank a pair of field-glasses which he used for watching the birds. “Oh, yes,” said Frank, “I can see him quite plainly. He is a brown bird, with a white and yellow breast, all dotted over with small dark spots.” “He is not such a beautiful bird as the chaffinch,” said Uncle George, “but he is a much finer singer. Our prettiest birds are by no means our best songsters. The lark, thrush, linnet, and nightingale are all plain birds to look at, but they are by far our sweetest singers.” “Tell us what you see through the glasses, Tom?” “I can see him nicely,” said Tom. “He holds his head high in the air, as if he were singing to the sky. His bill is wide open, and the feathers of his throat are moving rapidly as he sings.” “I think,” said Uncle George, “that his nest must be near. Let us look for it.” Just as Uncle George moved, a brown bird flew out of a low bush close at hand. “Ah, ha!” said Uncle George, “I thought we should find it. We have disturbed the hen bird. She has been sitting on her eggs all the time.” He moved the branches of the bush gently aside, and the boys saw a large nest made of dried grass. It was not very high up, and the boys, by standing on an old tree stump, could look down into it. “Oh, what pretty eggs,” said Tom. “There are four of them, Uncle George. They are light blue in colour, and sprinkled with black spots.
“The nest is quite smooth and hard inside. What is that queer brown stuff all over the inside of the nest?” “That is clay, Tom. When the thrushes have built their nest, they line the inside of it with clay. This clay is soft at first, but it soon dries and turns quite hard. “But, come, let us go, boys. The cock thrush has stopped his singing. He and his little wife are flying about in great alarm.” When they came to the chaffinch’s neat little nest in the fork of the tree, they got a great surprise. The four little mottled eggs were gone. In their place were four tiny naked creatures, with little tufts of dark coloured down upon their heads and necks. They had very large mouths, and their eyes were closed. “Oh, what funny little things,” said Frank. As soon as he spoke, the baby chaffinches stretched out their slender little necks, opened their wide, gaping mouths, and cried for food. “Pink, Pink, Pink!” came from a neighbouring tree. “Come down, Frank!” Uncle George whispered. “Let us go back from the nest, and we will perhaps see the old birds feeding them.” With another “Pink, Pink, Pink,” the cock chaffinch flew down and stood on the edge of the nest. He had something in his bill. This he dropped into one of the gaping little mouths, and flew away. Next came the hen bird with something in her bill. She fed another of the hungry little birds, and flew away also. The boys were greatly interested. They wanted to stay the whole afternoon and watch the chaffinches feeding their young, but their uncle would not allow this. “No, no, my dear boys,” he said, “we must not annoy our little feathered friends too much, or they may forsake their beautiful nest and their helpless young ones. “We will come back in a fortnight and see the young birds. You will not know them then, for they will be fully fledged.” “What do you mean by ‘fully fledged,’ Uncle George?” Tom asked. “It means covered all over with feathers, does it not?” said Frank. Their uncle nodded. “Are these little birds not cold without feathers?” asked Tom. “Oh, dear, no,” his uncle answered. “During the “Where does the cock bird go at night?” asked Tom. “He sleeps on a branch quite near the nest,” his uncle answered. Rooks and Nest. “I have just two more questions to ask, Uncle George,” said Frank. “What do the chaffinches feed their young ones on? and what becomes of the young birds after they are fledged?” “They feed their young chiefly on small worms, flies, Exercises on Lesson VIII.
Holly branch. |
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