THE BULBUL 127 



they Will not sing. I gradually accustomed mine 

 to do without the cover in the daytime, only 

 putting it on at night for warmth, and lowered the 

 cage as he became tame ; till now he is on the same 

 level as the other bird- friends, and will even snap 

 soft biscuits from any one's fingers. At the sound 

 of my voice behind the shutter, he jerks his head, 

 and flicks his long tail straight up and down, and 

 bursts into loud calls and "jug-jugs," combining 

 the voice of a thrush with that of a nightingale and 

 of many other birds. He is also a mimic, and will 

 imitate the shrill " cheel " of the kite, or the mew- 

 ing of a cat, or the creaking of a rusty hinge, which 

 is not so agreeable. I have had him for eleven 

 years. Last year I lost another that we had had 

 for sixteen years. The Burra Sahib gave him to 

 me when all the "chicks" were left behind in 

 England, and he was a great friend. He was in 

 beautiful plumage and full song, and did not look 

 at all an old bird. At any rate he did not die of 

 old age, but was frightened to death by a rat, 

 which crawled down the rope of the cage during the 

 night, causing the poor bird to flutter round and 

 round till it dropped dead. So he was found in 



