276 Bird -Lore 



even from the same brood or litter, I have found vary much in intelligence, 

 but I am far from seeing in the wild creature the automaton that some recent 

 investigators declare animals to be. 



Peter's appetite proved to be a very good one when it came back to him. 

 I find it recorded on August 26 that he ate ninety-four house-flies, "the first 

 good meal since he came." This seems to show that he ate them at a sitting. 

 I never saw his appetite for flies sated. On September 3 I have it noted down 

 that I fed him a hundred and fifty house-flies by count "and certainly as many 

 more which I did not count, and quite a little raw meat." Indeed, I found 

 fly-catching such hard work that I was obliged to find a substitute for flies. 

 I resorted to fresh beef ground very fine in a meat chopper. Peter relished this 

 and from the first ate it eagerly, but it was too hearty for him and the effect 

 upon his digestion was not good. He would eat a teaspoonful at a time if I 

 would give it to him, but I fed it sparingly and only when I could not get a 

 sufficient number of flies. I found I was not very well supplied with that 

 necessary article of diet and unless I got them when they clustered upon the 

 screen door of the kitchen to enjoy the warmth, or when the morning sun 

 shone into the kitchen porch and they gathered there to warm up after the 

 cool night, Peter and I were not lucky in our hunting. 



Peter was ready at all times to work for his dinner. He enjoyed his fly- 

 catching exercises, and was never happier than when I struck my fly-kfller 

 down in front of him inviting him to hop upon it and be carried out-of-doors. 

 He at once jumped upon the velvet-covered edge of it and balanced there 

 while I took him where I wanted him to go. In this way, or perched upon my 

 finger, I sometimes carried him far down the street to visit. He never made 

 an attempt to flutter off his perch, wherever I took him. The fly-killing game he 

 learned directly, and the moment he saw the implement of destruction he would 

 almost beg me to take him out-of-doors. He showed all the eagerness of a 

 hunting-dog who sees a gun. 



The first thing to do was to make sure that no cats were about. They had 

 learned all about Peter and were on the lookout for him. If the coast was 

 clear I would lower his perch and Peter would hop upon the floor of the porch. 

 Immediately he became all eager attention. He quivered with excitement. 

 When a fly fell he would run and pick it up, his wings set out like outriggers. 

 For a short-legged bird he ran remarkably well. His eyes were always upon 

 his game, while mine had to be chiefly upon him because he dashed about so 

 rai)idly that there was danger of stepping upon him. Peter never flinched from 

 the strokes of the fly-killer, though I often brought it down close beside him 

 with a smart whack. He watched the fly and when it fell he darted to pick 

 it up. I have seen him try to catch his own flies, springing up a short distance 

 to pick them off the wall. More than once I saw him mistake a nail- 

 head for a fly and rise to that. It was pretty to see him trotting back and 

 forth, so busy and happy. When I tired of our game — Peter never tired of 



