I’d almost reached the carport yesterday morning when Mrs. Next-Door came out of the bushes wearing her Santa hat.
“Hey, you’ll never guess what I’ve got at the bottom of my garden.”
“Fairies?”
“What? No. Can’t you be sensible for once? There’s a pair of Gouldian Finches nesting there.”
I tried to explain the improbability of her claim but it was futile.
“OK, Doubting Thomas, you come and look,” she shrilled, her voice assuming the timbre of command rather than invitation.
So, in the interests of peace and self preservation, I followed her into the garden of unlikely nidification where she pointed triumphantly to a small cup-shaped nest snugged among the twiggy branches of a of a Manchurian Pear.
“That is the nest of European Goldfinches,” I announced with unbridled authority.
“No it belongs to Gouldian Finches. Now listen, I’ve seen those birds and you haven’t, so how would
you know?”
A little devil entered my mind and urged pushing her into the paddle pool, but I dismissed him and tried explaining the myriad of differences between European Goldfinches and Gouldian Finches but it was akin to suggesting restraint and
détente to Boadicea as she was about to send her chariots charging into battle. So we agreed to disagree and I made a dignified retreat.
Mrs. N-D phoned at 6 am today to say she was walking her dog and had thought of me. As the alleged dog is a chihuahua I felt some resentment but let her continue. She had checked her bird book and yes, the nest is that of European Goldfinches.
She was at a loss to know how she could have jumped to such a silly conclusion.
I held several suggestions in abeyance but didn’t air them. Instead, in the honeyed tones of conciliation, I wished her (as well as all the chatliners) happy holidays, good health and good birding.
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John Layton
Holt
