245 



also on grain crops) and sleep together in thousands among the 

 mangroves that border all our large creeks (It should be re- 

 membered that Mr. Aitken is writing of Bombay), but they like 

 to make their nests and bring up their young in company. At 

 that time they become especially jovial and noisy. The books all 

 say that the Weaver Bird has no song, and I will not maintain 

 that its voice is musical, or that it makes any pretence to being a 

 soloist, but it is grand at a chorus. When a glorious company of 

 Weaver Birds join in song, the likeness to an after-dinner per- 

 formance of ' He's a jolly good fellow ' is most striking. Or 

 sometimes I compare it to a part}' of British soldiers returning 

 home from a festive meeting, whom the spirit of patriotism 

 makes vocal." 



Mr. Aitken then goes on to speak of the wonderful retort 

 or flask-shaped nest of this species. But description is unneces- 

 sary. Every popular book on natural history contains pictures 

 of the nursery of the Weaver Bird. Most interesting is it to 

 watch Weaver Birds at work. They usually procure the thin 

 strands of which the nest is composed, from the tall elephant 

 grass which grows wild in India. It is, I believe called " Ele- 

 phant grass" because it grows to about the same height as that 

 quadruped. The Weaver alights on one of the nearly upright 

 blades and makes with his bill a notch near the base of a neigh- 

 bouring leaf. It then takes hold of the edge of the leaf above the 

 notch and jerks its head backwards. By this means it strips off 

 a thin strand. Similarly, while holding the first strand in the 

 beak it tears off a second, a third, and perhaps a fourth and a 

 fifth, and then bears these off in triumph to the nest. The leaves of 

 the elephant grass are impregnated with silicon to such an extent 

 that they lacerate one's skin if attempts are made to pluck them 

 with ungloved hands. The material in consequence is well- 

 adapted to nest construction. When once a strand has been 

 pushed into position by the beak of the bird it is onlj'- with great 

 difficulty that it can be extricated. Thus it is that a disused nest 

 will defy the winds and rains of a monsoon. 



I cannot leave the Weaver Bird without mentioning the 

 ease with which it can be taught tricks. An account of some 

 of these is given in most of the books on Indian Birds. In 

 less than a week the clever little bird can be taught to pick a two- 



