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Our winter breakfast guests.



managed to get a landing net over its head before it got out of reach

and took it safely back to its old home.


I found they had an American bittern at the Zoological

Gardens, which oddly enough had been caught about the same

time, but a long way from here, down near the Azores. It was

caught I understand on a passing steamer. Possibly it left America

when mine did, as it was strange they should have appeared so

far from their home in a westerly direction about the same time.



OUR WINTER BREAKFAST GUESTS.


By Katharine Currey.


After enjoying the society during last winter of our friendly

pair of great tits, who came regularly every morning to the window

for monkey-nuts, as the spring advanced their visits became less

regular, till, as spring gave place to summer, neither came. With

the change of seasons of course their dietary changed, and the

garden furnished sufficient variety of delicacies for the greatest of

avian epicures. The old monkey-nuts were quite a thing of the

past. Sometimes in the daytime the tit called at the window, but

when a nut was laid out he sniffed at it, called again and was gone :

the garden was soon full of tits. One day in summer one of them

appeared at the window bedraggled and worn and came for nuts,

On the Ilex branch opposite sat a most beautiful young tit in grand

plumage, who was evidently being introduced to the larders. The

parent bird carried off' the nut laid out on the window-sill and the

young one ffew after him or her, I do not know the pair of great

tits apart. The young one was now often brought to the window

and waited for nuts, but I never saw him take one. One day I

strewed some bread on the window-sill for them ; they came, called,

peered at the bread, called again, and finally darted off uttering a

loud cry, probably of disgust.


It remains to be seen as harder weather sets in, whether

our little breakfast guests will resume their visits. One curious fact

in connection with them is worth mentioning: a hen sparrow used

to haunt our little pair, dodging their ‘ footsteps ’ and pushing her



