4



AVICULTURE.


By the Rev. C. D. Farrar.


There is a distinct charm in aviculture. It can be carried

on anywhere : in a back slum in S. Giles’, in a Belgravian

mansion, in a country vicarage, or in a suburban villa—and you

will always enjoy yourself; and what is more important about

this enjoyment is this, that you will not embitter your present,

nor endanger your future, by getting into a bad temper, whether

you are successful or not, provided always that you are a true

bird-lover.


This, notoriously, is not the case with othei- sports. I

have been assured by an experienced man that it makes you feel

“awfully bad” when, after a long and weary tramp over the

fallows, you at last get a wretched chance at a wild covey— and

miss; and as for football, hockey, cricket, fishing, and golf, I

need hardly speak of the uncharitable feelings they engender

towards umpires and successful opponents !


When I first went in for birds, I knew no more about them

than does a Kindergarten Board School child about South Africa.

I did not mention the fact, by the way, and a casual observer

might have thought that I had spent my youth in aviculture.

The birds “ that caused me to fall ” were a pair of Zebra Finches

in a bird dealer’s window. These birds have much to answer for.

They cost me seven shillings and sixpence ; but how many seven

and sixes have followed that first one I should tremble to say 7 . I

luxuriated in their exquisite beauty; little thinking or knowing

what there was besides beauty, as Allah in mercy hid the Book

of Fate.


Who would have dared to prophesy that one pair of

Zebra Finches would one day^ necessitate the erection of twelve

huge aviaries !


I know of no more charming way of spending an afternoon

than to sit down quietly and watch the ways of the bird world

around y : ou. If you keep quiet, the birds take no notice of you

and go on with their ordinary avocations, under your eyes,

hunting and playing and feeding and fighting—for sad to relate,

in spite of good Dr. Watts, birds in their little nests do not

agree, nor out of them either, for that matter—until something

frightens them, and then there is a general stampede, a sort of

“ general post.”


It does some people good to go and see another man’s

birds ; it does another a lot of harm. It raises feelings of



