THE WHITE-EARED CONURE. 213 



the spring, though I occasionally picked up a dead 

 bird in the enclosure, or found one there with a broken 

 leg or wing. I blamed the Budgerigars or the Ring- 

 necks for this, however, and never once suspected the 

 pretty little Conures, who seemed to be always engaged 

 in caressing and feeding each other, taking little or no 

 notice of anything else. 



No doubt: sweet innocent little creatures I Well, 

 spring came at last, and with it my Cockateels' fancy 

 turned to housekeeping, so they cleaned out a barrel, 

 and laid their usual complement of eggs, upon which they 

 sat until hatched in due season ; two little ones making 

 their appearance on the eighteenth day, and the remaining 

 three on as many successive days afterwards. 



When the youngest member of the little family was 

 about two days old, I heard an awful commotion in 

 the aviary and thinking that a cat must have invaded, 

 or was contemplating an invasion of its privacy, 

 I seized a stick and calling the dog rushed hastily to 

 the rescue, but there was no feline foe about the 

 premises. 



The old Cockateels, however, kept on flying about 

 screaming in a distracted manner and a fearful row 

 was proceeding from the covered-in house where the 

 barrel containing the young ones was suspended. I 

 opened the door, and the first things I saw were the 

 two eldest of the baby Cockateels lying dead upon the 

 floor, while a tremendous noise and skirmishing were 



