THE NIGHTINGALE. 61 



window at Baden-Baden, about the year 1867; we were told that it had been 

 caged for several years, and it sang grandly when we heard it. Many years later 

 I saw one at an inn, at Selling in Kent, which had been caged for about eight 

 years and still sang well. Every year many are exhibited at bird-shows, the 

 same specimens being shown in successive years. I have also known an instance 

 of this species breeding and rearing young in an aviary. 



The spring-caught Nightingales are those which are sold for songsters, those 

 obtained on their autumn migration are said rarely to live ; I have, unhappily, 

 never had a captured Nightingale. In June, 1887, I secured a nest of five birds 

 nine days old, and (following the usual most misleading instructions) I fed them, 

 amongst other things, on finely chopped raw-meat ; consequently they all suffered 

 from violent purging, which carried off the two strongest. Guessing that the 

 meat was the cause of this disaster, I at once changed their diet, and successfully 

 brought up the three others upon a mixture of four parts pounded dog-biscuit, four 

 parts oat flour, two parts pea-meal, two parts yolk of egg, and one part ants' 

 cocoons, the whole well mingled with water into a moist paste. When about six 

 weeks old, they began to quarrel about trifles, and pull out one another's feathers ; 

 therefore early in August, I placed them in three separate sections of a large 

 aviary-cage with sliding wire divisions, and here they soon recovered their plumage. 

 They were very tame, but, like most birds, objected to being handled ; although 

 this was frequently necessary, as they used to get their feet clogged with dirt, 

 which they never attempted to remove for themselves. I now changed their diet 

 again ; that upon which I had reared them proving too fattening, now that they 

 were full-grown ; I knocked off three parts of the oat-flour and one of the pea- 

 meal, substituting finely crumbled dry bread. Curiously enough these Nightingales 

 would persist in sitting in the direct rays of the sun, the result of which was 

 that two of them got heat-apoplexy and lost all interest in everything, appearing 

 as if stuffed, neither moving nor eating. I gave them both a warm bath, after 

 which one of them recovered, but the other died miserably about the end of 

 August. It was said to have warbled a little before its attack, but I doubt it 

 myself. 



My two remaining Nightingales became wonderfully confiding, and would 

 come and pick caterpillars or mealworms out of the palm of my hand, but 

 neither ever sang a note ; one died from a recurrence of sunstroke in August, 

 1888, and the other (a fine male bird) went off in a decline at the end of the 

 same year. As pets, hand-reared Nightingales are neither so pretty, nor so 

 charming, as Robins; their outline is pleasing, and their full intelligent eyes give 

 them an alert appearance not belied by their sprightly movements; but one wants 



VOL. I. M 



