V 



INDIAN WAGTAILS 



"What art thou made of? — air or light or dew? 

 — I have no time to tell you if I knew. 

 My tail — ask that— perhaps may solve the matter ; 

 IVe missed three flies already by this chatter." 



I QUITE agree with Mr. Warde Fowler that wag- 

 tails are everything that birds should be. They 

 are just the right size ; their shape and form are 

 perfect ; they dress most tastefully ; they display 

 that sprightHness that one looks for in birds ; their 

 movements are elegant and engaging ; their undulating 

 flight is blithe and gay ; their song is sweet and cheery ; 

 they are friendly, and sociable, fond of men and 

 animals, " not too shy, not too bold." They are, in 

 short, ideal birds. 



I know of nothing more enjoyable than to sit 

 watching a wagtail feeding at the water's edge. 



'* She runs along the shore so quickly," writes a long- 

 forgotten author, " that the eye is hardly able to 

 follow her steps, and yet, with a flying glance, she 

 examines every crevice, every stalk that conceals her 

 reposing or creeping prey. Now she steps upon a 

 smoothly washed stone ; she bathes and drinks — and 

 how becomingly, and with what an air ! The very 



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