2 1 4 FEA T HER ED FRIENDS. 



going on inside the barrel. I put my hand in and was 

 severely bitten, but I pulled out the culprit, the Conure 

 I always thought was the male of the pair, when the 

 other attempted to escape, but I barred her passage 

 and caught her, too, though not without receiving 

 another sharp bite. 



I felt so angry with the wretches that I had a good 

 mind to end their murderous career by then and there 

 dashing them on the ground, but I refrained and carried 

 them indoors, where I put them into a disused cage 

 that had at one time been occupied by a couple of 

 Canaries and then I returned to the scene of the 

 massacre. 



The two young Cockateels were quite dead, and on 

 examining the others, I discovered that one of them 

 had nearly the whole of its bill gnawed off, another 

 had lost all the toes on one of its feet, and all three 

 were bleeding from a number of wounds scattered 

 impartially over the whole of their poor little fat naked 

 bodies. 



I put the sufferers back into their barrel, and in time 

 they recovered, but were always cripples, for the beak 

 and toes were not replaced. How the one managed 

 to eat with the stumps of her mandibles, and the other 

 to perch without any toes on one foot was a marvel. 



It was wanton wickedness on the part of the Conures 

 that made them attack the poor little Cockateels, for 

 there were several other precisely similar barrels in 



