236 IN BIRD LAND. 
sill, and then squat down upon them to press them 
into the desired concave with her red bosom; but 
it was all to no purpose, for she had no mortar with 
which to rear the walls of a cottage. 
Leaving the robin to her fruitless labors, I turned 
to a collection of weaver-birds of various species 
and divers markings. There was one, especially, 
with a black head and neck and yellow body, that 
attracted notice. He was rather handsome; his 
song, however, was a perfect squall, especially the 
closing notes. These birds did not sing all the 
time, but intermittently, one of them beginning with 
a few ringing notes as a prelude, and then the others 
joining, all screaming louder and louder as the 
chorus went on, until they ended in a supreme 
racket. Then there were a few moments of quiet, 
followed by the united chorus as before, making 
such a tumult that one voice could scarcely be dis- 
tinguished from another. A dainty little sparrow, 
unnamed, seemed to fill in the intervals with his chirp- 
ings, forming a sort of semi-musical interlude. 
The enclosure which contained the yellow-headed 
blackbird was divided into a number of apartments. 
Here were parrots of various species, among them a 
number of white-throated Amazons. You have 
doubtless heard a dozen or more parrots screaming 
simultaneously. On my visit these birds created 
a terrible hubbub. They cried and laughed and 
sighed and groaned and shrieked until my ears were 
almost deafened. But in the midst of it all, when 
there was a slight lull, could be heard the silvery 
