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would allow me to stroke it down, scarcely moving away when I

placed my face close to it. The peculiar shuffling of its wings

seems to be involuntary.


Of Doves I have several kinds—the common Ring-dove,

the Turtle-dove, the Stock-dove, the White Japanese Dove, and

the Egyptian Dove, the latter being like the common Ring-dove

but suffused with a rosy hue all over the body. East year

the Stock-doves brought out one young Dove, as did also the

Ring-doves, but both young birds have died. This year the

former have reared a beautiful pair of young ones. In the early

summer, one of the most singular spectacles possible to imagine

was to be seen in the aviary : for, in a very capacious nest on a

tree branch, there were six Doves’ eggs, and on this nest, seated

in harmony, a Turtle, a Japanese, and common Ring-dove,

though outy one nestling survived.


Very lately I obtained a Magpie, which, with the Jay, I

had to move from the larger aviary, as, on the very first night of

its residence, it killed two Thrushes and a Sparrow.


As in the case of the Starling, it is fear of losing a mag¬

nificent songster which prevents me from releasing or giving away

one of my four Blackbirds. And a like cause, in part, operates

with me as regards Thrushes, of which I have eleven—nine being

Song-thrushes (mostly caught in the cold weather), the others

being the Missel-thrush and a Fieldfare. I have, too, a very fine

Ring Ouzel, but being a late purchase I cannot say much about

its habits, except that it is very tame, having been brought up

by hand. The Song-thrushes have always built nests and laid

eggs, but the hatching has been intermittent, and no young birds

have been reared. The Missel-thrush has surprised me by the

delicacy of its throat-notes, for though the five or six notes of

its usual song are shrill enough, it loves to come beside me

(either when inside or outside the aviary) and to give utterance

to the softest of tones, deep down in its throat, as if it were

whispering a song, while all the while it turns its head to look

into my eyes, as if noting the effedt.


Of the Fieldfare I cannot say much, as it was only

captured lately. It is, however, a beautiful bird, and though its

voice, as far as I know, is unmusical, its elegant shape and

bluish-grey colour, together with its peculiarly tipped beak,,

make it an ornament to the aviary.


In this my first aviary, there are several Sparrows, who

are the very wildest of its denizens. One is rather a rarity,



