A BIRD OF CHARACTER 



I HAVE hinted more than once at the possibiHty 

 of there being some understanding between the 

 architect of my bungalow and the feathered folk. 

 On this hypothesis alone am I able to account for 

 the presence of a rectangular hole in the porch, about 

 eight feet above the level of the ground, a hole caused 

 by the deliberate omission of one or two bricks. The 

 scramble for this cavity by those species of birds which 

 build in holes is as great as that of Europeans to secure 

 bungalows in a Presidency town. Last year a pair of 

 spotted owlets (^Athene braind) secured the prize and 

 reared up a noisy brood of four. These were regarded 

 with mingled feelings by the human inhabitants of the 

 bungalow. On the one hand, a bird more amusing than 

 the clownish little owlet does not exist, on the other, 

 it is excessively noisy. Each member of the family talks 

 gibberish at the top of its voice, sixteen to the dozen, 

 and as all will persist in speaking at once, the result is a 

 nocturnal chorus that will bear comparison with the 

 efforts of the cats which enliven the Londoner's back 

 yard. 



This year a couple of mynas {Acridotheres tristis) 

 secured the highly desirable nesting site. Immediately 

 on entering into possession they proceeded to cover the 

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