The elegant goldfinch

Most birds are long done building their nests and raising their young by now. The young have left the nest and are more or less on their own. Male songbirds are molting into their drab winter plumage and those birds that make the incredible journey to parts south are bulking up on fruits and berries, sometimes adding as much as 100 percent of their body weight to provide fuel for their trip.

But have you seen the goldfinches lately? The male still proudly sports his bright yellow plumage and is busy gathering food for his mate and young who, in many cases, are still in the nest.  American goldfinches breed later than most North American birds. Some records show goldfinches nesting well into September.

They wait until milkweed, thistle and other plants have produced their fibrous seeds, and then use this material to build their nests and feed their young.

While doing some research on goldfinches I found a reference that said the American goldfinch’s name means “sad thistle seed eater†probably referring to one of its songs, which sounds quite plaintive.

And it’s true that the goldfinch’s favorite food is thistle.  In fact, goldfinches are among the strictest vegetarians in the bird world, to the extent that when brownheaded cowbirds lay eggs in an American goldfinch nest, the cowbird egg may hatch but the nestling seldom survives longer than three days. The cowbird chick simply can’t survive on the all-seed diet that goldfinches feed their young.

On the other hand, I can’t fathom the idea that the goldfinch is “sad.†I also found this 1885 quote from Bradford Torrey, which aptly summarizes my opinion of this iconic bird:

 â€œOur American goldfinch is the loveliest of birds. With his elegant song, and his more beautiful soul, he ought to be one of the best beloved, if not one of the most famous; but he has never yet had half his desserts....

“So far as I know, he never utters a harsh sound; even the young ones, asking for food, use only smooth, musical tones. During the pairing season his delight often becomes rapturous. To see him then, hovering and singing — or, better still, to see the devoted pair hovering together, billing and singing — is enough to do even a cynic good.â€

Scott Heth is the director of Audubon Sharon and can be reached at sheth@audubon.org, (subject line: Nature Notes).