THE



Bvtcultural rtfoagasme,


BEING THE JOURNAL OF THE


AVICULTURAL SOCIETY.



VOL. III. — NO. 33. All rights reserved.



JULY, 1897.



THE LAST STRAW.


By Reginald Phieeipps.


Most of our readers will be familiar with the story of the

cockney who, on paying a visit in the country, was given a

freshly laid egg for breakfast, with the triumphant remark from

his hostess that he didn’t get such eggs as that in Tondon.

“ Haw,” answered the cockney, “but it hasn’t the flavour that

our London eggs have.” There is no accounting for tastes, and

use is second nature, as the following story will further show.


Here in London, many are the noises that disturb our

slumbers; what with the barking of dogs, the caterwauling of

cats, and the crowing of cocks, we need a little acclimatising

before we can enjoy a good night’s rest. Around this neighbour¬

hood, moreover, we have other helpful influences to accustom us

to any and every row, such as the racing of early milk carts, the

whistling of locomotives, and the much louder, screechier steam

whistles at various works which, in the early morning, make life

a burden to all but the heaviest sleepers.


I, in my time, have lent a helping hand in acclimatising

my neighbours, esteeming the same to be a praiseworthy action ;

and virtue would have been its own reward if my neighbours

had only been a little more appreciative. Common Mynahs can

make a noise ; Hill Mynahs can make many noises. Piping

Crows have useful voices in this connection; four of these

musical creatures, Black- and White-backed, have enlivened my

garden, and welcomed the rising sun with the most joyous

cries—not always melodious, three of them doing their duty

manfully—the other womanfully. The labours of one of the

former is still gratefully borne in mind by those around. On

the other side of the garden wall was, and is, a Bantam that crowed

lustily and shrilly; one of the White-backs, a splendid fellow,

thought he could do one better, and would go up to that wall



