OUR DIARY OF SPRING.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 236, 5 October 1935, Page 38 (Supplement)

OUR DIARY OF SPRING.

NOTES FROM BUSH AND FIELD.

By

E. G. TURBOTT.

WE expect the enjoyable bird orchestra in spring. Of this the greenfinch, frequently called “green linnet,” is an important member. His qualifications are colour and voice. Certain things seem to belong to our pleasant Lady Spring and no other. I am sure that one of these things is the song of the greenfinch, although as regards this idea others differ. One says: “The greenfinch has a variety of notes, and 'its conversational twitter, especially when a number of young birds are travelling in a flock,‘is very lively and pleasant to hear, and the ‘pee-wee,’ also uttered by' immature birds, is a cheery little cry, but the drawled, rasping note of the male in spring, a song and not a call, is monotonous and harsh to our ears.” Another: “They are frequently recognised, especially in spring time, by their somewhat harsh notes, which are sometimes mistaken for those of the long-tailed cuckoo, although the scream of the latter is very much more harsh and loud. As the season advances the notes of the greenfinch become more mellow, but at the best the bird is not much of a songster.” The greenfinch’s . long drawl means “spring,” anyway. On some beautiful August or September day he will commence to sing it from a place on the tiptop of a row of shelter—macrocarpas. It is then, out of all the days in the year, that I ask for nothing better. This here is my diary for one year, August 19.—“ Noted silvereyes, starlings, house sparrows, song thrushes, blackbirds and a yellowhammer. Heard greenfinch also lately—spring.” The greenfinch is the same length as the sparrow, six inches. The yel■low markings on its general colouring of green are quite conspicuous. Like all the members of the finch family found in New Zealand, the greenfinch is not a native bird, having been imported in the early days of our history. It lived formerly in Europe, North Africa and South-west Asia to Persia and Turkestan. Most greenfinches 'will rear two broods before the end of this season. They start the work in September. To help them on their way the mates seem to have quite a large amount of affection. Coward had seen in Britain that robin and hedge sparrow males often fed their mates, continuing the custom after the female had started ’sitting. Then, about the female paying back • by feeding the male, he mentions one example only. He saw a hen green-

finch feed her mate. “She gave him three portions,” he says, writing it down, “and he received them with apparent gratitude.” A Temporary Retirement. Those who live in town or city are often fortunate in their wilder bird visitors. Unless they are very fortunate indeed, they will notice quite an absence of these as the time approaches for nesting. Wilder places are really safer for the brood. The Hon. G. M. Thomson notes at Dunedin in August: “The native birds which have come in near the haunts of men during the earlier months of winter now mostly seek the denser bush in which to build their nests, only a very few being found within the limits of the Town Belt.” He goes on to mention several small land birds. I was thinking of the seagulls which make for part of the interest in Albert Park, right in the heart of Auckland, and many other places in the city. These red-billed gulls are noted for cupboard love at lunch time. During the nesting season they leave the city and port altogether. Their chicks are hatched away out where white waves dash up to match the silver and white of the old birds’ feathers. This exodus of the red-billed gulls is worth noting. Wateh for it, and you will be surprised, and almost alarmed, at the absence of your old friends.

Bird, Bee and Blossom. A boy’s diary recorded thus a fascinating day in spring, September 3: “The plum trees are all out in blossom now and the blight birds (silvereyes) are sharing the ‘honey’ with the bees. To-day a flock of about thirty silvereyes flew across and settled on the plum trees, sipping tho nectar from the flowers’. They never seemed to be still, and, together with the bees and blossoms, made a pretty picture—bird, bee and blossom. The ‘blighties’ are in their full plumage now and are very trustful.” Now, although the time above all for flowers is summer, we would not exchange the fresh white and pink flowers of spring time for summer’s blues and purples. Neither do the bees hesitate to set to work long before the busy days in the heat of summer. One spring day I discovered a bee in an awkward fix. It was badly tangled up in a spider’s web stretched across a likely place in the garden. I set it free and hardly hoped for thanks. But I did expect that bee to be rather shaken by its narrow escape. On the contrary it made a true bee-line for the nearest flower, and went on with its business all hung over with bits of spider’s web. In his “Calendar” (this note is of a different season—in April) the Hon. G. M. Thomson says the same: “The honey bees have taken advantage of these warm days to come out in considerable numbers. They always mean business, and go about the flowers as if they were in a hurry. There is no such thing as cultured leisure among bees; they work for work’s sake, and take life very seriously.”