Kccf^iiii!; and Breeding the (i old-breasted U'axhill. 99 



supi)ose. tliouyiit it high time tiieir young should shift for themselves. 

 Next morning I found one of the two dead — the other flying al)out as usual, 

 and it continued doing so (apparently in the best of health) for another week 

 cr ten days, when it also succumbed. The old birds had built a new nest 

 and obstinately refused to feed their young the last thing at night, or 

 to admit them into their nest, so they fretted and died. Had they been 

 fed a day or two longer I feel convinced I should now 1)C the proud possessor 

 Ol a couple of outdoor-aviary-bred Gold-breasts. 



Of course the season was too late to expect such birds to be reared, 

 l)Ut I have hopes of being successful next season. 



■ I may add that, hi the same aviary my pair of Zebra Finches reared 

 two nests of six each, and the Bengalese a brood of five. — Lucy Button." 



Theie are many beautiful waxljills tliat come to us from 

 various pai ts of Africa; witliont giving' any one species pre- 

 eminence above its fellows, none surpass, in my opinion, the 

 excpiisite wee (lolden-breast, the smallest member of the w-ixbill 

 group. W hether judged by their sprightly active demeanour, 

 beautiful plumage, contour, soft song, or general characteristics 

 tliey have few species that surpass, or even equal them in the 

 avian world. Mrs. Golden-breast, though clad in a quieter 

 tone, is equally as beautiful as her more brightly clad " lord 

 and master." A pair of Golden-breasts in good plumage 

 adorn any aviary or collection, however grand or rare they be; 

 tiiey are, moreover, a well-matched couple, not always from tlie 

 matrimonial point of view for they are not free breeders in 

 captivity; however, their behaviour to each other and their 

 fellows is usually exemplary; but because the colour tones of 

 n^ale and female are in such comjjlete harmony one with the 

 other. 



Often, wlien viewing my birds from a little cHstance, have 

 I mistaken the cock bird for a flower, for, when perched on the 

 twig of some living bush, the greens of his plumage are lost in 

 tl eir setting of living-green, and only his gorgeous golden- 

 orange breast stands out, looking for all the world like some 

 gorgeous golden flower — and, though one. after the first 

 surprise, senses the optical deception, remembering perhaps 

 that there were no plants just there to account for such a flower, 

 yet on more than one occasion the illusion has only passed when 

 ?. nearer approach brought the whole form, colour and beauty 

 of the bird into view. But this rhasphody is not aviculture, 

 though it may l)c very human, so we will pass on. 



