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as a lion, albeit somewhat cautious, and for a day or so kept at a

distance from so uncanny a fowl as the Pitta. But a coward is

soon found out. Punch soon took his measure ; and, in all

simplicity, he now blandly hops up to the cockroach, and with

perfect urbanity hops off with it to some cpiiet retreat.


But by far the slimmest thief is the Brown-eared Bulbul

(Hemixus flavala :—Museum Catalogue, Vol. VI. p. 49). This

individual bird, the only specimen of the species I have ever

seen (*), is not very forward when the “Advance ” is sounded.

He is hardly the kind of champion the trembling maid of ancient

history would select to do doughty deeds on her behalf, nor quite

the kind of man a prudent general would choose to head a

forlorn hope ; but a more capable person to lead an advance to

the rear could not be found in all India. He would as soon

think of bearding the Pitta in his den as of eating his own head.

So clever on the wing and quick at dodging is he that one

cannot imagine the hawk that would be sharp enough to

strike out a single feather.


Picture to yourself the Pitta in the bird-room occupied with a

cockroach, the window being a few inches open, and your humble

servant standing over both with a long stick in his hand, in order

to drive away the adversaries. O11 this occasion, however, these

precautions seem unnecessary ; all the larger birds are in the

garden, or are supposed to be ; not a foe is visible ; and the Pitta

and the cockroach are happy. Suddenly a wild piercing

shriek, a kind of double shriek, rings through the room, and the

Pitta starts up in alarm. There would be a faint sound of a flutter

of something somewhere, a sort of a shadow across the retina,

a half impression that a ghost had brushed past uncomfortably

near to one, and then all would be as silent as the grave. The

startled Pitta would look carefully around, would slowly

recover himself, would give a wag of relief, and turn once more

to his cockroach. But the cockroach has disappeared! In vain

does the Pitta turn himself about, and search hither and

thither and between his own legs : it slowly seems to dawn upon

him that he has been fooled, and like a snubbed cur he slinks

quietly away with his tail between his legs, and is seen no more.

Outside, in the aviary, a crowd of birds are pursuing one of their

fellows which has a cockroach in his bill, but all in vain ; at the

very first pause the cockroach disappears down the artful one’s

throat—and I feel about as foolish as the Pitta.


(To be contimied).


Since this was written, one specimen of the species has reached Mr. Hamlyn's hands.


R. P.



