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The song is bright and cheerful though not of extended

compass ; the call notes seem to be two, one a harsh note some¬

thing like that of the Sliama, the other a very fine loud whistle.


It is extremely tame, feeding from my hand although it

is in a cage 8ft. square.


I am not acquainted with the district from which these

birds are brought, but think it must be a fairly temperate one, as

the plumage is thick, and whilst always throwing a few downy

feathers, the bird always looks like paint and does not seem to

mind a little cold weather. When I bought it it was in its nest-

feathers, and all the colours and markings were dull and

indistinct.


BREEDING OF THE MALABAR MYNAH.


By the Rev. C. D. Farrar.


Some of the readers of the “ Avicultural Magazine ” may

remember how, about two years ago (1898), I was successful in

getting a pair of Malabar Mynahs to make two nests and to lay

two lots of eggs in succession ; but although they sat steadily

and did all in their power to hatch those eggs, still being

unfertile, the task proved hopeless ; although it called out much

patience and persistent effort. Whose fault it was I cannot say,

as both birds seemed in perfect health and condition ; but so it

was, those eggs refused to hatch, and at last even the patience of

the Malabars, or, as a neighbour’s poultrymau will call them (with

a fine disregard to correctness) ' Balamars,’ was exhausted and

they gave up the case as a bad job. At the end of the season I

sold them to my friend ‘ Balamar,’ but during the next winter he

lost them both : from want, I think, of sufficient live food.


For a year I remained without any Malabars ; but one day

this summer I was looking at a friend’s aviary at York, and he

happened to have an odd Malabar, the finest cock, I think, I

ever set eyes on—quite a monster. He had once belonged to Mr.

Fulljames, but, on the disposal of his birds, had emigrated

North. After a little bargaining I got him transferred to myself;

and after seeing him comfortably settled in his new home, and,

on the principle that neither for Starlings nor man is it ‘ good to

be alone,’ I wrote to London and procured him a mate. His joy

on seeing her was pathetic. She, I must say, seemed (or

pretended to seem) coy and amazed at his bold demonstrative

ways. There was no mistaking that he was a disciple of

Herrick, as he gaily warbled



