THE REDSTART. 43 



beetle trap" into the aviary, and the Redstart was the first bird to rush in among 

 the evil-smelling captives, seize one and fly off with it : no sooner was the first 

 swallowed than he was back again for another, and so on until he was sated : 

 he was always actively flying about, and when I put in the saucer of soft food he 

 invariably skimmed over it snatching up a fragment of yolk of egg, whilst the 

 saucer was still in my hand. If I offered mealworms or spiders in my fingers it 

 was always the Redstart who snatched the first, flying up to the wires and either 

 poising with rapidly fluttering wings, almost like a Humming-bird, or clutching 

 the wire work with his claws for one second, to ensure a correct aim at the 

 dainty. 



I found the Redstart rather fond of red and white currants in the early 

 summer, and in the autumn thin slices of apple were pecked to pieces by it ; but 

 white butterflies seemed to form its favourite morsels and the astounding manner 

 in which it would swallow one after another (wings and all) was worth the 

 attention of visitors to my collection. One thing I specially noted ; in common 

 with every migratory species which I have kept, the Redstart failed to show any 

 access of restlessness as the season of migration approached. Personally I do not 

 believe, for a moment, that any bird, properly attended to in the matter of food, 

 in an aviary, is even aware that there is a season of migration. 



Aviculturists go at night and glare at their birds, with the moon lighting 

 up their eyes into balls of fire, and the frightened creatures bang about recklessly 

 in their terror of the vague monster near their cages. The verdict is: "See 

 the effect of the migratory instinct!" There may possibly be an inherited desire 

 in some birds to travel at the approach of cold weather, but the true explanation 

 of the so-called "migratory instinct" in birds is, to most of them, merely another 

 name for short commons ; and, to the more delicate species, the added discomfort 

 of chilly nights. It must also be borne in mind that, at all seasons of the year, 

 birds in aviaries are extremely restless on bright moonlight nights, the clear 

 white light with the black shadows which accompany it, seem to startle birds ; 

 and, if your bedroom window is above an aviary, you will hear your captives 

 thumping the wirework at the end of each flight, at all hours of the night: 

 moreover the resident birds are quite as much given to this somewhat risky 

 exercise as the migratory species. 



During the winter of 1894-5 the temperature of my unheated aviaries was 

 unusually low; on one night (when the cold outside was very intense, two 

 degrees below zero, in fact) the thermometer registered twenty-one degrees of 

 frost in the passage between these aviaries; my Redstart, however, was as lively 

 as before, and I hoped to keep him for many years in health; but one night, 



