21



him with such suspicion, if he were truly “ very peaceful towards

other birds ” ? and, as he became more powerful on the wing, I

became more and more alarmed. But it was the old old story.—

He was a grand bird and I was unwilling to part with him, and

consequently unwilling to think any evil of him. Besides, he

fed largely on seed ; and, in addition to all this, I had talked

the matter over with an “ authority,” who had assured me that

none of the Cassiques are “ rapacious.”


In the “ Royal Natural History,” there is a reproduction

of an illustration of a Crested Cassique busily working at the

skull of a mouse, a pursuit which did not seem to me to be quite

consistent with the above assurance—but then many illustrations

are drawn with the view to pleasing the ej'e rather than of

illustrating facts. With this picture in mind, my feelings may

be imagined when, one morning, I picked up a mouse in the

birdroom which had had the back of its skull neatly opened

and its brains abstracted, but was otherwise untouched. This was

a warning I had no right to have disregarded, for no bird but the

Cassique could have dealt with the mouse in this fashion. I

seem to have been infatuated ; but, then, how about Mr. Russell

Humphry’s peaceable bird, and the “ authority ! ” It is a bad

quality in a man to be wanting in faith—excepting perhaps when

he happens to be an aviculturist.


I have already stated that the Cassique made love to any

female, and hunted only the male birds in my aviary. All the

males were ver}^ strong on the wing, and the females also for the

most part, but there was one exception. I had a female Orange-

flanked Parrakeet, who had come to me with cut wings ; she was

now well on in her moult, but had not yet obtained full powers of

flight. She was a great pet of mine; and she always looked to

me to protect her from her stronger companions : her trustfulness

in my care especially endeared her to me.


One day I had been out for a few hours, and, on returning,

went into the birdroom to have a look round. There was a

scared look about the birds, and instinctively I felt there was

something wrong. I gave one or two calls to reassure them, still

looking sharply about, when, from underneath one of the

houses, I saw something crawling towards me. For the moment

I could not make out what it was alas, it was my poor little

Orange Flank, who, hearing m3^ voice, blind, with tottering

steps, was coming to me with a mute but ghastly appeal for help.

At no time does a man feel his insignificance so completely as

when the dying appeal for help. He yearns to help but is



