TURNED HIS BACK. 119 



but was as awkward as a child learning to feed 

 itself. He first thrust it like a dagger its whole 

 length into his dish, took out a mouthful, then 

 turned his head sidewise, shook it and snapped 

 his bill one side and the other, making a noise 

 as if choking. When this performance was 

 over, he scraped his beak against the wires and 

 picked off the fragments daintily with the tip. 

 When he had eaten he left a straight, smooth 

 hole in the food, like a stab, two inches deep 

 and perhaps half an inch in diameter. In 

 drinking he made the same movements, filling 

 his mouth, throwing back his head, and swallow- 

 ing with great efforts. 



All of the Golden-wing's attitudes were pe- 

 culiar ; as, for instance, he never liked to face 

 one, but always turned his back upon spectators 

 and looked at them over his shoulder. In 

 sleeping he changed his position often, and was 

 as restless as a nervous old man. Sometimes 

 he slept on the perch, puffed out into a ball like 

 other birds, head buried in his feathers, tail 

 broad-spread and curled under the perch, as 

 though it needed something to rest against. If 

 he began his night's rest (or unrest) in this 

 position, in a few hours he would drop heavily 

 to the floor, scramble about a little, and then 

 climb to one of the supports that kept the wires 

 in place, ten inches from the bottom of the 



