on Devotion.



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pigeons; an open window gave them access to a loft, and here they

nested again; indeed, at one time, things really seemed to he shaping

well for a little *tiock of Blue Rock-pigeons. But it happened that

we were away from home'for rather more than a year, and during our

absence the loft was visited by a poaching cat. The last tragedy

took place just as we returned home in May, 1915, when the cat

finished its ravages by killing the Adhurst pair; nothing was left

but their one surviving orphan. It was all too sad ; we had to start

again from the very beginning, or worse—with one pigeon instead

of two.


The best chance of starting these pigeons is to begin with

a nestling pair; yet it seemed just possible that a new pigeon might

be induced by the one already here to stay, and since a flock of

tame pigeons (usually sprung from a single pair) become much bred

“in and in,” it was best to try and get “fresh blood.” Before the

war these pigeons could be bought almost anywhere for a shilling

apiece, for they were constantly being netted for pigeon-shoots, but

now not a Blue Rock was to be found. Every likely place—Leadenhall

Market, the slums of Bristol, the dealers in Liverpool, the columns

of the ‘Exchange and Mart’—was tried, but tried in vain. The

answer was always the same, “ The Government regard them as

‘ homers,’ so we are not keeping them.” Our little foundling, then,

had to remain companionless, and for the present the idea of keeping

Blue Rocks had to go. In this strait some kind friends gave us two

pairs of Modena pigeons, very beautiful birds, in which the black

wing-bars are curiously reproduced in chestnut on a blue ground.

They were put into a place which we will call the aviary.


The tragedies of his childhood had made the young Blue Rock

(it turned out to be a male bird) very wild and shy; for some time,

if feeding, he would start oft on the wing at the slightest sound or

sudden movement; but he became tamer and tamer, until at last

he would feed from the hand. We became very fond of this bird,

and somehow he took the name of Tweetie. All through that

summer and the winter following Tweetie remained about the place

alone; not literally always quite alone, for, from time to time,

parti-coloured pigeons would appear from somewhere else to visit

him, but they never stayed long. Spring came, and then we felt



