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and yell, and yell, and yell, until that wall ought to have tumbled

down—but it didn’t, it still remains in fact. In addition to these

there have been Choughs and Crows, Hawks and Pies, Jay-

Thrushes and Laughing - Thrushes, Bell - birds and Barbets,

Parrots and Parrakeets, and countless others, all and several

rising early and doing their little best, led by a grand old Raven,

who habitually commenced before dawn. Then there have been

the birds who ofttimes turn night into day. Few sounds are

more wearisome than the ceaseless bleat of the Godwits; and

Curlews, Plovers, Oyster Catchers, and the like, all have their

little whistles and voices ; and when I say that I have had six

different species of Owls in my garden here, I think I have said

enough. Oh! the priceless value of the precious birds that I

have parted with because of the want of an avicultural education

amongst my neighbours !


Now, a few doors from this house there has been living

these nineteen years, and still lives, a stalwart, broad-backed

dame, who has kept our otherwise quiet street bountifully

supplied with comely lads and lasses, these again carrying on

the business, on their own account—perambulators and babies

still being common objects of their door-step. Evidently she is

fairly well acclimatised. The noises of the boys, babies, steam-

whistles, cats, dogs, cocks, etc., are, she says, natural noises, and

she and her husband do not hear them. My birds, she declares,

are her delight. She still has a lively remembrance of the Piping

Crow above referred to. If she has pleasanter recollections of

any one set of birds more than another it is of the Owls. She

tells me she used to say to her spouse, “ There are Mr. Phillipps’

Owls screeching again ; it is going to rain.” * Such an one as

this one might have supposed would have been equal to any

noise; but no : the down-trodden worm has turned at last; the

broad back has at length been broken ; and the straw that did

the mischief was--


The other evening this lady called and asked to see me.

The following account of the interview is very feeble : I find

myself quite unequal to the task of adequately reproducing the

scene.—“Well, Mr. Phillipps, how long is this to go on ? ” I

meekly begged to be informed to what she might refer. “To that

horrible screeching noise made by that bird in your garden ;

night and day it never stops.” “Noise! noisy bird in my



* In many parts of the country, the cry of the Green Woodpecker is

supposed to foretell rain ; but I never before heard that the cry of an}' of

our Owls has a similar vaticinal property.—R. P.



