and drinking water ad libitum. Up-country, where maggots are

not commonly bred, white ants and a little raw lean meat take

their place. That is the sole diet of the Shama, and he thrives

on it. I heard of one bird which lived for 14 years and was then

killed by a rat!


It may be asked, How about the live maggots ? Nothing

is simpler. Here in Calcutta we have the maggot-man, just as

London has its cats’-meat-mau. He comes round every morning,

starting as soon as it is light, with his can of maggots and his

bag of grasshoppers. He charges me Rs.2 (2s. 8d.) per month,

and gives me about four tablespooufuls of live maggots and some

grasshoppers every day. He tells me that he has about 40

houses to visit during his morning round ; so he must make a

fairly good living—considering that the average pay of native

servants is from Rs. 10 to Rs.15 a month. He employs a boy to

catch the grasshoppers and “ breed ” the maggots. This is done

by putting damp cow-dung mixed with a little blood from the

slaughter-house into a sack, open at the top and hung up. The

contents soon become fly-blown ; and the maggots, working

their way downwards through the sack, fall into an earthenware

vessel placed to receive them. They are cleansed with dry

earth, and finally shaken up with a little peameal to receive their

final “ polish.” A gallipot for single birds, or a small trough for

an aviary, I have found most convenient for putting the maggots

into ; they never attempt to crawl out unless thejr get wet. The

great advantage of maggots over mealworms is that the former

are produced so quickly; they never get more than half-an-inch

in length, however.


The Shama is “taken out for a walk” every evening after

the heat of the day is over ; that is to say, his owner or his

owner’s servant goes for a walk and takes the cage containing

the bird—always covered—with him. It is quite a common

sight to see a man carrying very carefully a cage in each hand ;

the little occupants frequently bursting into song. My ex¬

perience is that you get more genuine singing in a pleasant

subdued tone from a Shama when his cage is never covered up;

on the other hand, I think the bird does more “ loud shouting,”

though at much less frequent intervals, when the cage is always

covered.


Shamas get extremely attached to anyone who feeds them.

The hen bird, to which I have already referred, delights in being

talked to. She comes close to the wires of her aviary and, if

caressed by the voice, puffs out her feathers and sings with all



