18 BULLETIX 8 



support in being well dressed and a very "Ragged Robin" would stand 

 motionless before the mirror and survey himself long and solemnly in 

 apparent disapproval. With the loss of his tail for a rudder his flight 

 was awkward and uncertain. We then called him "Bobs" for short. 

 He would launch himself with a scream of doubt and fear, alighting 

 •on my shoulder with an air of astonishment that he should safely have 

 arrived. But his plumage is coming in richer, darker and with dif- 

 ferent markings. Some of his tail feathers are tipped with white. 

 His vanity is reasserting itself. He struts self-consciously and we now 

 call him the "Major." He poses for his picture with keen interest in 

 its progress. Then he attempts to draw the finished likeness into his 

 cage together with all the brushes he can reach. 



For his own amusement he is allowed my best double-ender camel's- 

 hair, which he worries to a frazzle. It is fun for him but death to 

 the brush; — but — what would you? He has various self-taught stunts; 

 for instance, he jumps over an alarm clock, hitting the bell with his 

 toes, listens intently to see where the sound comes from, and repeats 

 the performance. He is always on a still hunt for rubber bands. He 

 pecks and kills these near-worms and swallows them hastily in some 

 secluded corner, with one eye on us; for hasn't he often been "un- 

 ravelled" before he could actually encompass them? "They will give 

 you a pain in your midst," I say severely; "besides, a bird full of rub- 

 ber bands is liable to bounce up into the air and never come down 

 again!" 



When scolded for his offences he cries resentfully but rarely re- 

 peats them without peeping to see if he is observed; and if so he ex- 

 presses his feelings by climbing to his highest perch, turning his back 

 upon us and gazing steadily out of the window. The hauteur of that 

 back is the most impressive thing I ever saw! 



While hunting for the traditional early worm he pulls up tender 

 young plants and chews off their roots, burring from one to another 

 in a carnival of mischief. "Bad boy, stop it!" I command. He crouches 

 low and looking up into my face begs, in the most appealing tone, 

 "O please let me just this once!" 1 surrender, horse, foot and dragoon. 

 "0 Pitty Babe, you can have anything in this house that you want, 

 when you ask like that!" He can now lead me with a string. My 

 knowledge of robins, you perceive, is entirely theoretical and academic 

 and it is evident that I am training him along the lines of least re- 

 sistance. In point of fact / am the one in training, and I am learning 



