My Weavers — Past and Present. 2ii 



Xow if yon were to ask me which was my favourite 

 weaver. 1 slioukl say the Sparrow Weaver. This bird died 

 after layiiiij: three ey"s.;s. rather late in the year; so far as I know 

 she never made any attemi:)t at nesting during the four previous 

 years 1 had her. This was tlie tamest Weaver I ever had. 

 As soon as I entered tlie slieher and got down the box in which 

 I kept the mealworms, she was on my hand. As I write these 

 notes the stuffed body stands on my desk. So well has the 

 taxidermist done his work that it seems she is only waiting for 

 you to ofier her a mealworm to fly down as in days gone by. 

 The Black-heads. Rufous-necks, and Crimson-crowns would all 

 eat from my hand, but were not of the same confiding nature 

 as the Sparrow Weaver. As regards beauty, tastes differ. 

 The brilliant scarlet-black of the Grenadier (Oryx Weaver) and 

 the Crimson-crowned certainly catch the eye, but then so does 

 the gold-black of the Napoleon and Black-headed Weavers. 

 Again look at a cock Rufous-neck in full colour; here you have 

 yellow-black, with a warm red-brown and different shades of 

 greenish-yellow, all blended together so exquisitely that a speci- 

 men in good health, with a beautiful sheen on its feathers, and 

 if it were not for his wicked reddish eye, which does not miss 

 even the smallest spider or mealworm you throw on the floor, 

 seems to be carved in marble. Then again, who does not 

 express delight when they see a cock Madagascar Weaver in 

 full colour for the first time. This little fellow, about the size 

 of a linnet, and a brilliant scarlet all over, perched amid the 

 green leaves of the plants in the open flight, rivals the choice 

 exotic blooms of the East. 



Before passing on to the Whydahs, who also have, so to 

 speak, two suits, one during the breeding season, which is 

 resplendent with colour or an abnormal length of tail plumes, 

 and a dowdy dress for winter; allow me to say a few words on 

 this transformation. Nothing to my mind is more interesting 

 in the bird world than to watch the Weavers, and especially the 

 Bishops and allied species, coming into colour. One day you 

 go to the aviary and find your birds in winter dress of brown or 

 fawn shades all over; then the head and neck starts showing 

 scarlet spots amid the brown. If you have not seen your birds 



