8 7



Now the Australian bird-catchers and dealers call Bathilda ruficauda

“ Star-finches,” that is to say, Estreldae or Astrilds; yet Dr. Sharpe places

Bathilda ruficauda next before the genus Poephila , clearly recognizing its

affinity to the latter, although he had nothing but structure to guide

him. In like manner, Budgerigars were, at one time, popularly, though

erroneously, known as “ Love-birds; ” but gradually, as people became

educated up to the correct names, the dealers, who (like Mr. Abrahams)

know the habits of their birds, are able to leave off calling things by names

which are misleading, and the Red-tailed Astrild of the past becomes the

Rufous-tailed Grass-finch.


Now I will say a few v 7 ords touching my personal experience of this

finch. I am not wealthy, therefore I could not purchase Mr. Abrahams’

pair; but, this year, a friend unexpectedly received three pairs from Australia,

and the cost of importing them being heavy, he asked me if I would

care to take a pair off his hands. The} 7 were dear, decidedly dearer than

Gouldiau Finches; but not so very much more than I have sometimes had

to pay for pairs of rare birds. I was tempted, and fell. My friend un¬

fortunately lost a second pair a few days later. Importing is not all profit,

by any means; sometimes it means a dead loss.


My pair looked very lovely for a month ; but, as I noticed one or two

little feathers knocking about, I would not let the birds breed, thinking

they were moulting. At last, to my horror, I discovered too late, that the

male bird alone had moulted every feather, from the nape of his neck

to the root of his tail: his beloved wife had been looking for grey hairs

all day long, and had completely plucked his back. I now tried turning the

pair into a much larger cage, fixing up a little breeding cage screened with

evergreens at the back. The hen was overjoyed; but her poor old man

made shift to scramble up beside her to roost, and that was his last effort.

In the morning he was a corpse.


My hen bird is very healthy as I write, and I mean to obtain a

husband for her, but not a Rufous-tail ; he must be made of sterner stuff,

and not lead his owner in the direction of that refuge for the destitute

which is supposed to be the abode of industry.


Arthur G. Butter.



“UP WITH THE LARK IN THE MORNING.”


Sir, — I have seen it stated that this old saw,—which, of course, conveys

the idea that the lark is one of the first of the birds to stir about in the

morning—should be modified, as the lark is by no means an early riser,

and that many of our songsters could claim priority in that respect.


I have often been among the birds at break of day in the spring and

summer, but without particularly noting which were the first to sing

their matins. I do not think the habits of our wild birds are studied as they

ought to be, and I would suggest that some of our members who live in the

country and have opportunity of studying the habits of our feathered friends,

should send their notes to the Amcultural Magazine, where I am sure they

will be read with interest by many of the members.


I heard recently of a school teacher telling her pupils that the lark

sang only at night! She gathered this from a poem which, in speaking of

the lark, said its song could be heard though the bird itself was invisible.


On the morning of April nth, I arrived, at four o’clock in the morning, at

a small country station, near Tours, on the bank of the Loire. It was, of

course, at that time of day quite dark, but it was a fine calm cloudless

morning. I had to wait about twenty minutes while the driver of the mail

cart got his horses ready, and during that time I was listening to a most

delightful chorus of song. High up in the sky a lark was pouring out

a flood of sweet music ; some hedge-sparrows joined in the song every now

and then, and the hooting of some owls made a good substitute for the

■“band.” I thought that possibly French larks were earlier risers than our



