and barley, nigh to the onstead; indeed these crops are never sale from their rapacity till carried into the yard, and even then the exposed ears fall a prey to them, and other little birds: it is impossible for them to burrow into our stacks, far less to-pull out the straws. When the fields are cleared they will forage in the neighbouring stubbles, keeping close to the hedges so long as the supply lasts. I often see them feeding on the seeds of the charlock thrown from the barn, but I have not seen them eating those of any other weed: in the garden, the seeds of the tamarisk and white broom are special favorites, and sometimes the petals of the dahlia.
The Goldfinch. Many years have now elapsed since the goldfinch nestled about our onsteads and villages, where they were once as plentiful as sparrows. Grey-haired ploughmen talk of their services amongst the thistles, and other weeds in the outfield; but infield and outfield, the wretched agricultural practices of the olden times, have alike passed away, and with them this bright finch, which is now only known as a rare straggler.
The Linnet. It is always pleasant to listen to the song of the brown or grey linnet, in the gay furze- thicket, on an early summer's morn, or to the choral bursts of assembled hundreds on a hedge-row tree, in a calm winter's day, enlivening the bleak and desolate fields with their merry sports, as they search the stubbles for seeds of the charlock and grain: even in open weather they frequent the stackyard, where I perceive that the heap of seeds cast out from the barn has more attractions for them than any other food. Early in April these gatherings disperse, and the several pairs betake themselves to their breeding-grounds, whin-thickets on the slopes of hills and by the sides of lanes, the only places where they build their nests. They are very sociable birds: even at this season, small parties search the pastures and fallows in quest of the seeds of the chickweed, groundsel, dandelion, &c. They are the most determined of all the plunderers of our fields of turnip-seed; though repeatedly driven off by the gun or the rattle of the watchman, yet they soon return, with bounding flight and gay carol, the merriest, lightest-hearted robbers in the world: autumn comes with good store of ripened seeds, but as many of these are covered by the ripening grain, the linnets occasionally help themselves to a few oats near a hedgerow, till the reaper has cleared the fields, then they revel in abundance, and confer incalculable benefits on every farmer, who allows them quietly to enjoy the bounties which Nature hath spread abroad with no sparing hand.
