80 MR. ROBERT GODFREY ON THE 



in perfect silence to another twig, a foot nearer me. T kept 

 perfectly still, in the hope of seeing it feeding at its ease. 

 But white jackets and helmets are not natural constituents 

 of forest scenery, and my appearance proved too much for 

 my visitor. Off it hurried with a distinct flutter of its wings, 

 quite unlike its previous silent movements. Thereafter it 

 could still be followed by the fluttering it made as it worked 

 unseen about the bed of the stream, but it did not return to 

 the pool. All was huslied again in my immediate neighbour- 

 hood save for the humming of an old mosquito gloating over 

 the prospect of an unlooked-for meal. 



Though one of our commonest birds, the Cape Robin Chat 

 does not appear so to anyone unacquainted with its song. It 

 lives amongst undergrowth and does not tolerate observa- 

 tion. In the search for its food, it hops over the ground by 

 short stao'es, turnino- over withered leaves to discover the 

 insects that may be skulking beneath, and picking up an 

 occasional seed by the way ; but all the time the bird is 

 ready at the slightest alarm to dart into the bushes. If in 

 its hunt it spies the caterpillar bait of a boy's trap, it is 

 almost certain to seize it and bring the death-dealing stone 

 upon its head. This is one of the species on which the boys 

 levy heavy toll. With the exception of November — an 

 exception which is no doubt due to incgmplete observation — 

 the Cape Robin Chat sings all the year round. He loves for 

 his music-stall a spot overgrown with bushes and trees, and 

 there he will sit, maintaining his broken song and halting 

 between the successive phrases. Often he varies his phrases, 

 which consist of a few notes each, and keeps chattering to 

 himself even in the heat. Though willing to sing at intervals 

 all the day long, he shows himself off" to special advantage 

 at morn and at even ; in winter he sends a thrill of cheer 

 throuoh the woodland for a few minutes before the darkness 

 falls. About the middle of September these birds retire for 

 nesting-duties. I have neither seen nor handled the nest, 

 but have t'ound the young abroad on 23rd December. 



