474 THE BRITISH NATURE BOOK 



fully snap at the tickling fingers. He grew in twelve months into a large and 

 handsome creature, in the best of condition ; but when the following spring came 

 round, though he was as tame as ever, there were signs of increasing restlessness. 

 At night, in his big caged-in kennel, he would sit with ears erect, listening, listening, 

 listening, with low wistful whines, breaking into a sharp " Yep, yep, yip," repeated 

 again and again. If you listened attentively, you might hear far off an answering 

 or challenging reply. The sequel is inevitable. One morning, put out on a long chain 

 for exercise on the lawn, the yearning for the Wild proved too much for him. The 

 length of his chain was found, the link close to his collar snapped. He was hunted 

 for and called in vain. A report reached the searchers that a handsome fox had 

 been seen careering through a garden half a mile away, on the way to the open 

 country. 



That was the last time Vicky was seen and recognized. Doubtless he found his 

 way to the woods, whence the call of the siren had come. Doubtless he found his 

 mate. May they long escape the hounds ! 



No. 3. JOEEE, THE STARLING. 



I have written more than one article from time to time about starlings ; but 

 this tune my pen is to tell the story of one with whom (I refuse to write " which," 

 for he had a personality that was rich and varied) I was on most intimate terms 

 a year or two ago. 



Next to the sparrow, the starling ranks as the most ubiquitous and mischievous 

 of garden birds. He is often an alien, too, who arrives in company with thousands 

 of his fellows every year ; but a large number remain in England all the year 

 round. There is, and I must add deservedly, no close season for him in the garden, 

 where he is a wastrel and a robber. He belongs to the " submerged tenth," except 

 that he will not stay submerged. The gardener wages incessant war upon him ; 

 he is an Ishmael, or ought to be, and yet he is one of the most lovable of birds, 

 and I do not hesitate to say that of many birds which I have kept as pets I know 

 none for which I have a tenderer memory than for Joeee. 



I would rather, I think, lose a good many other of our British birds than the 

 starling ; for whilst others sing for the few months of spring, the starling is ready 

 to give his celebrated performance as a mimic all through the winter, so long as 

 he has a chimney top to stand on and a gleam of sunlight to show off the gloss upon 

 his wings. A happy-go-lucky, good-for-nothing, care-for-nobody sort of tramp, 

 he holds his own against everybody (except Jack Sparrow, who easily beats him 

 when it is a case of securing a building site), and he is, with all his ups and downs, 

 the most cheerful of knaves. He will eat anything he can get ; he pokes his beak 

 into every hole and corner he comes across ; he will place his untidy nest with the 

 utmost impudence wherever he pleases. In this neighbourhood he sticks it in 

 under the rooks' nests a blatant piece of insolence, when you remember the dignity 

 of the bird in black. He bathes in any sort of a bath he can find. My pigeons 

 have their drinking bowl just outside my study window, but they do not get a 

 drink until the starlings have been in it. A patch of water on my lawn unfortunately 

 shows itself every spring, and the starlings make such a prodigious mess of it that 

 there is a bare patch all the summer. 



The starling is a dreadfully cheap bird, too ; you can buy one for a few pence, 



