44 Rev. Robert Godfrey 



several months a party came nightly to roost beside the Lesser 

 Kestrels in a gum-tree and would often noisily call, late at night 

 and at early dawn. Their alarm was so contagious that at the 

 utterance of the sharp, single note, the whole flock of over a hun- 

 dred kestrels would dash out of the tree in wild concern. Some- 

 times, in coming to roost, the starlings played around for some 

 time before settling, and a pair would occasionally separate from 

 the others and rise perpendicularly in the air, then shortly after- 

 wards subside again into the general swing of the company. They 

 left their roosting-place at the first streak of dawn. 



Mr. O. Brigg, in describing the habits of this species at his 

 farm on the Herschel border, tells me that at sunset thousands 

 came to roost in a poplar copse near his house. They kept up 

 their noisy notes till darkness set in, and, if disturbed at night, 

 they would rise with a noise like distant thunder. For the greater 

 part of the year they seek their food on the ground and may 

 often be seen hobnobbing with the cattle; when feeding where 

 sheep are pasturing, they perch readily enough on the backs of the 

 sheep. In autumn, they gather in flocks in the fields of kafir- 

 corn and mealies, and levy tribute from the standing grain, and in 

 the month of July they love to feed on the red aloe. 



On the 18th October, 1917, my wife and I noticed a Pied 

 Starling on the edge of a donga near our house at Somerville. As 

 we had seen a pair at the same spot some weeks previously, we 

 suspected the presence of the nest, and I went down into the 

 donga and soon found a likely hole, running vsrith a slight upward 

 trend into the bank. The diameter of the hole narrowed rapidly 

 from just over five inches at the entrance to three and a third in- 

 ches. Inserting a wand to test the depth of the hole, I withdrew 

 along with it feathers and wool. This clear proof of occupation 

 was confirmed by a harsh scream from the ownier dashing past me. 

 Inserting my arm I could just reach the eggs, four in number. The 

 nest, which occupied a shallow depression about a foot and a half 

 from the entrance was a rude conglomeration of material; mixed 

 with and overlying the foundation of vegetable matter — both fine 

 and rough — was a mass of feathers (chiefly the smaller feathers of 

 fowls and the feathers of a dove) with goat's hair, wool, paper» 



