“In California, it is also an extremely abundant and familiar resident, and is called by the inhabitants Buriones. During winter they assemble in flocks, frequenting the bushy plains and hill-sides, hedges, vineyards and gardens, living on the various kinds of seeds which are so abundant, and also sometimes doing considerable damage among the grapes. Early in March they commence pairing, and soon are busy building their nests; placing entire confidence in man (which is but too often misplaced) they persist in building about the houses; on the projecting planks under the portals, under the eaves, in sheds, boxes or in any nook they can find. I once found a nest in a small box of seeds which had been stuck up over a door. They will also build on the horizontal branch of a tree in the garden, and a great many nests are made in the willow hedges of the vineyards, but they prefer by far the rafters under the sheds and houses, repaying the inmates for the privilege, with their most melodious song, which is continued during summer, from the roof near the nest. The nest is made of small sticks, or stems of weeds, willow catkins and down of the willow, and lined with horse-hair. They usually lay five eggs, sometimes of a plain bluish white color only, but generally having a few scattering streaks and specks of dark brown on the larger end. Some nests are made principally of feathers, cotton or wool, with a few sticks and dried grass, and lined with horse-hair. Frequently only four eggs are found in the nest, and they often have a very few specks or streaks on one side only.
“It would be impossible, with words, to describe the song of this western Orpheus; and although California contains many song-birds, among others the Mocking-Bird, yet there is none more exhilarating to the feelings, or melodious and tender to the ear, than the song of this Finch.”
This bird was first described satisfactorily as a distinct species, by Col. M‘Call, in the Proceedings of the Philadelphia Academy, VI. p. 61, (April 1852.) In a previous paper in the same periodical, V. p. 219 (June 1851) he thus alludes to it:
“I found this charming little Finch abundant at Sante Fé, where it commenced nesting in March, although the weather was still wintry, and so continued, with frequent snow-storms, for more than a month. Notwithstanding this, the song of the male failed not to cheer his mate during incubation, with the liveliest melody. The notes often reminded me of the soft trill of the house-wren, and as often of the clear warble of the canary. The males of the last year, though mated and apparently equally happy and quite as assiduous as their seniors, were not yet in full plumage, having little or nothing of the red colors that mark the adult birds.
“The nests, which were stuck into every cranny about the eaves and porticoes of the houses throughout the town, were variously composed of dry grass, fine roots, horse-hair, long pieces of cotton twine, or strips of old calico; in fine, of countless odds and ends, that were picked up about the yards;—these were curiously and firmly interwoven, so as to make a warm and comfortable abode for the new-comers. Eggs, four or five, pale blue, slightly marked on the larger end. The young were able to fly by the middle or latter part of April. A second brood, and in some cases, I believe a third was raised during the summer, as not a few of them continue to incubate until some time in the month of August. Before the latter part of September, however, nearly all of them had disappeared from about Santa Fé.”
For the following additional account of this species, prepared expressly for the present article, we are also indebted to Col. M‘Call:
“Whilst residing in New Mexico, I always remarked a gentle amity in the character of this lively little songster which failed not to bespeak for him the kindly regard of all with whom he made his abode, whether the wealthy proprietor of the manor-house, or the humble peon, whose miserable hut stood aloof from the mansion. For, the same cheerful melody that soothed the noontide of the former while idly swinging in his hammock, welcomed the appearance of the latter as he came forth at the dawn of day to resume his toil; the same confiding familiarity was observable in his approach to both, and the same merry pranks were played, whether feeding on the bounty of the one, or gleaning a more scanty meal near the ill-furnished table of the other. It was this pleasing trait in his character which prompted me in the choice of his name.
“His disposition also towards other birds, appeared to be mild and peaceful, as I had many opportunities to observe. I will mention one instance: In the piazza of the house I occupied, quite a colony of these birds had their nests: here the work of building and incubation had gone on prosperously for several weeks, although the weather at times was stormy and cold, and ere the genial warmth of spring was fairly felt, the colony might have been said to be fully established. As the season advanced and birds of less hardy nature began to arrive from the south, a pair of Barn-Swallows (H. rufa) made their appearance, and forthwith entered the territory of the Finches. And here they at once, very unceremoniously, began to erect their domicil. This act of aggression would have been fiercely resented by most birds, and violent measures would have been promptly resorted to, to eject the intruders. The conduct of the little finches was quite different: at first they stood aloof and seemed to regard the strangers with suspicion and distrust, rather than enmity. In the mean time the swallows went quietly to work, without showing any inclination to intermeddle; and in a day or two [their mud-walls all the time rapidly advancing] they gained the confidence of their neighbors, and finally completed their work unmolested. Indeed, a perfect harmony was established between the parties, which I never saw interrupted by a single quarrel during the time they remained my tenants.
“This incident, and I would mention others were it necessary, illustrates the character of this species in strong contrast with that of its relative, the Purple-Finch, (C. purpureus,) which both Wilson and Audubon agree in representing, from personal observation, as quarrelsome, tyrannical and domineering in the extreme. This species may, moreover, be considered as a more southern bird than the Purple-Finch, its northern range probably not extending much beyond the limits of New Mexico, on the eastern slope of the Rocky mountains; while that of the other stretches to the Fur countries.
“On the western slope, it is common throughout California, but not in Oregon. At the Missions of San Diego and San Gabriel it nested in the hedge-rows, as well as in the buildings. I often saw it in numbers on the edges of the immense fields of wild mustard, a plant which, introduced by the early Spanish missionaries, now overruns whole districts of that country, and in size and vigor of growth is almost arborescent; but whether it nested in these thickets or not, I did not ascertain. Yet I found the nests of the Red-winged Black-bird (A. phœniceus) in numbers, placed at the distance of 6 or 8 feet from the ground, in the branches of the wild mustard.