Feeding the 
this latter is the better plan as rain does 
not get in, but it is only the tits and 
nuthatches that seem at home hanging head 
downwards, and blackbirds—which are very 
partial to cocoa-nut, and thrive on it—do 
not get a chance. Apples and potatoes, 
either cooked or raw, also appeal to the 
soft-billed birds. Bread or corn will serve 
as a capital stand-by to several; while 
porridge, barley meal, scraps of pudding— 
in fact, scraps of all sorts—are relished. 
With a little 
foresight we 
can save from 
the garden 
many a dainty 
for winter food. 
Vegetable 
marrows, 1f 
allowed to npen 
thoroughly and 
hung up im a 
dry place, will 
give many a 
meal from the 
seeds; the 
heads of sun- 
flowers are 
excellent, as the seeds 
contain a large quantity 
of oil; small apples, 
too small to be gathered 
for storing, should be 
kept, likewise the small 
potatoes. Any number 
of plantains may be had 
for the picking, and if 
hung up in bundles will 
be much appreciated. 
There is another 
thing which the birds suffer from the want 
of—water. This is, of course, only in times 
of hard frost, and is an _ easily-supplied 
deficiency ; two or three shallow pans placed 
on the lawn or gravel, not too close to 
bushes or other cover, meet the case; and 
it is wonderful how the birds delight in a 
cold tub when the sun happens to shine. 
I have had nearly twenty different species 
of birds as constant visitors to my boxes 
and water pans, though some of them only 
ROBIN AT COCOA-NUT. 
MARSH TIT. 
Half a loaf is better than no bread. 
Birds in Winter 179 
appear during the very hardest weather; of 
these about twelve remain and nest in the 
garden and orchard, so that, with the 
addition of about six different summer 
migrants, we have a good number of nests 
every year. 
I have little friend—a 
one particular 
ereat tit—who regularly came for food all 
last winter, and afterwards brought up a 
large family in a bird-box which I placed 
on a tree 
in the garden. Nine hungry 
mouths take a 
deal of filling, 
so he still came 
to me for bread, 
cocoa-nut, or 
cheese, flying 
through the 
open window 
into the room, 
perching on the 
sideboard, or 
the chairs or 
table. I had 
but to whistle 
and he was 
there, pecking 
bread placed on 
the arm of a chair, 
or helping himself from 
the loaf on the break- 
fast table, and taking 
no notice of our voices 
or movements, nor of 
the dog which sprawls 
in the sunshine on the 
floor. He was here the 
winter before, too,—I 
know him by a dis- 
tinctive spot on his 
breast—and though he did not build in the 
garden that spring, he had his nest some- 
where near by, and brought his wife and 
family with him to feed in the winter. 
One of his last-year’s children built in a 
box in the orchard, and if this sort of thing 
goes on we shall have a fairly large number 
of them in time. 
As I have asked for pity and protection 
for free wild birds, so I must ask for 
sympathy with those that are caged. There 
