lS2



I had beautiful nests built, but no eggs were laid ; I blamed the

‘ cat’ and all sorts of things, but never suspected the true cause,

the gender of the birds. What at last undeceived me was a

battle royal that I fortunately witnessed, in which one of the

contending parties lost an eye. Then my mind was at rest. I

knew why I had failed, and at once proceeded to look for the

remedy. It was a case of ‘ cherchez la femme ’ again : a very

difficult task in this case. The only way that I could see was to

get half-a-dozen Mocking-birds together and compare them, on

the off-chance that there might be a hen among them. I sent to

a friend, and he kindly allowed me a consignment to pick from.

For long enough I looked at them, but for the life of me I could

not pick out much difference. Some had more white on the

wing ; some were lighter, some darker ; but I felt sure they w T ere

cocks by their build and carriage. At last I thought about

Parrots : in some you can tell the sex by the eye. I looked over

the Mocking-birds, and lo, two of a big cageful had green eyes,

and all the rest gravel. “ Eureka,” I cried, “ I have found out

the secret.” And so I had, for with the green eye there went

a general look of femininity.


The best of the two hens I lost as nearly as a pop, as we

say up here. I was ill in bed for a week, and the attendant who

looked after the birds for me forgot to fill the water pot. I never

saw a bird more nearly gone ; but by superhuman effort I

managed to pull her round.


In the early spring, I liberated this hen with the one-eyed

cock into a nice big aviary thickly planted—a regular Mocking¬

bird Paradise. Their companions were a pair of Bearded Tits, a

pair of Red-eared Bulbuls, and a pair of Blackcaps, and two

Chinese Quails. The Mockers, in spite of the bad character

many give them, molested their neighbours in no wise ; but

confined themselves to their own domestic affairs. For a few

days the cock sang most magnificently, and no one who has not

heard a Mocking-bird has any conception of his vocal powers.

He can imitate any bird to the life. I have heard mine call like

a hen Many-colour wanting to pair, and you would have sworn

that the Many-colour was there. I have heard him scold like a

Peggy Whitethroat to the life, squawk out like a Blackbird when

frightened, sing like the Blackcap, and all in the most life-like

manner.


After a few days given to song, he (the cock) settled down

to business. The cock, in the case of Mocking-birds, does

all the building ; the hen simply nods approval. The first



