' OLD JOE ' 71 



of bits, of bacon. That one never stays to eat, 

 and evidently carries for others. I hope the 

 robin gets some of it ; he comes so seldom him- 

 self. 



January 4, 1883. 



He came, however, this morning, when no 

 other bird would do so. I went to the window 

 with a scarlet woollen wrap over my head, as I 

 had a cold. All the birds were frightened at me, 

 dreadfully frightened, except the robin. He looked 

 up at me for a few minutes, very earnestly, from 

 the verandah, sang a little song, and then flew up 

 and fed close to me. This he did twice. Did he 

 think I was another sort of robin ? or was it the 

 attraction of protective colouring? The latter 

 probably. I know robins feel the protection of a 

 brown dress. That sense of protective colour is, 

 I suppose, one of the most primitive. 



Febmary 8, 1883. 



I must not allow Old Joe, the old chaffinch, to 

 pass away without a note. He made his last 

 appearance without a tail ; he looked very much 

 ashamed of himself, and as if he would have put 

 it between his legs if he had had one ; but then 

 he would not have been ashamed, not he ! And 

 it may have been the tail-between-legs look that I 

 took for shame. But the birds were disgusted, 



