7i



THE CHINESE SPECTACLE THRUSH.


By the Rev. C. D. Farrar.


Some three years ago, when in London, I paid Mr. Lner a

visit, as in duty bound, in search of curiosities. His shop, by the

way, is worth a visit, for he generally has something good put

away. I found it so this time ; for, on looking into a certain cage, I

saw a rare bird that at once attracted my attention. He was a fine

ehocolate-colonred fellow, with blue eyes, and curious triangular

spectacle patches round the eyes. I knew at once that I had

before me the Chinese Spectacle Thrush, and I saw he was a fine

cock. I at first hesitated to buy, as I always try to get a pair. I

got Mr. Lner into talk, and he told me he had taken him in

exchange from Mr. Moerscliell, of our Society. I said to myself:


1 Oh, foolish Mr. Moerscliell; some men never recognise their

blessings until they are gone ! ’ At the same time I blessed him

for giving me this chance. I asked Mr. Luer if he chanced to

have a hen ; he said he did not know, but he had another

Spectacle Thrush in a cage right up on the sky line. I asked

him to reach it down, and I saw directly I set eyes on it that it

was a hen, and a very good one, too, though shabby in feather.

We soon struck a bargain, and I carried off my two friends at

the end of the week to Yorkshire. I kept them in a big cage for

some weeks until I had got them into condition, as I had to pull

all the hen’s flights and tail : they were so badly broken. I then

transferred them to a big garden aviary, which I call the

Wilderness, and where they have remained ever since in the

company of Nonpareils and Indigos. Curiously enough, though

insectivorous birds, they much prefer Indian millet to any soft

food I can put before them, and it seems to agree with them

admirably.


During 1899, they made no attempt at breeding; though

they had the good example of a pair of Nonpareils before them.

They stood all last severe winter with hardly any shelter; but

suffered apparently no inconvenience.


The cock is an excellent singer, and I think he knows it.

The hen sits by and approves by a low gurgle from time to time;

she seems to believe ‘ that it iz a grate art to know how tew listen.’


I really felt very sorry for these birds last winter, it was so

bitterly cold ; but they apparently held with Emerson that

“ All sorts of things and weather

Must be taken in together

To make up a year

And a sphere.”



