132 MUTTON BIRDS 



great difference in the ages of the nine nestlings. 

 One of them flew with perfect ease, and indeed 

 thus escaped, whilst the quills of another had 

 barely begun to sprout. 



One broad branch of a somewhat flattish shape, 

 several feet to one side of the nesting hole, 

 slightly higher, and quite out of the hen's line of 

 flight, I used to look upon as the courting ground 

 of the pair. About two feet of its surface were 

 perfectly smooth and worn with traffic. No 

 scale of bark or scrap of moss remained. Often 

 whilst I watched and listened, mysterious sounds 

 would emanate from the hole, sometimes the 

 beginnings of uncertain song, the numbers 

 broken and hesitant, sometimes a noise of 

 scuffling and fluttering, bark-scratching and 

 shaking, as if the whole brood were playing at 

 "Musical Chairs" or " General Post."' 



During our early intercourse and whilst the 

 hen still hesitated to feed her nestlings before 

 my gaze, I believe that like the carnivorous 

 King-fisher or Falcon, she, too, absorbed the 

 undelivered food and went off to gather a fresh 

 cropful. At any rate after being baulked for 

 more than a few minutes, she would altogether 

 leave the vicinity, and remain absent for about 

 the average time taken normally to provide new 

 supplies. 



My photographs turned out to be deplorably 

 bad. From the situation of the nest I could 



*I used to think, too, of that bed, where in a London slum 

 tenement, and packed like sardines, a whole poor family slept, 

 father, mother, boys, and girls. 



"But how," enquiry was made, "do you manage if you want to 

 move at night?" 



"When Pa says 'turn' we all turn," was the reply; and perhaps 

 likewise when the eldest Parrakeet said "turn" all its younger 

 brothers and sisters also turned. 



