It is a slim small-headed bird, almost snake-headed, long-

legged like the Chough, standing and roosting high, and, like

the Chough, it fights savagely with both feet and bill, uttering at

the same time a not un-Chough-like caw. But while the Chough

frequents the ground, and works about among the stones in

search of insects, jabbering (c) to himself the while, the Black

Cassique, no lover of the ground, works away amongst the

boughs of the forest trees, as silently as Satan, — and up aloft, in

a wild state, probably obtains a large proportion of its food.


My Black Cassique fed largely on canary and other seeds,

including hemp, which he used to shell ; indeed, with me he

lived chiefly on seeds and mealworms. Occasionally he would

eat fleshy fruit, such as a cherry, carrying it up to a perch, hold¬

ing it down with one foot, and eating it by tiny pecks, for with

ever}" food he seemed to swallow only the tiniest morsels. I do

not know that he ever touched raw, but occasionally he would

peck at a small piece of cooked meat ; and ordinary insec¬

tivorous food he would just peck over : altogether he was a very

moderate feeder. But he w 7 as keen after small insects, not only

snapping at winged creatures as they passed him on some high

perch, usually at the top of a dead tree, but darting into the air

after them within a range of some three feet. He was naturally

a shy retiring bird, keeping mostly to the trees. Not that he was

afraid of. the ground, but he showed an unmistakable preference

for an arboreal life. When on the ground he walked with an

uncertain gait, and occasionally lapsed into a lopsided-Magpie’s

shuffling hop. He was very wild, suspicious, cunning, and sly ;

no bold honest knave like the Hunting Cissa, but rather

saturnine, and well deserved the name of Mephistopheles, which

he bore while with me. Although not delicate for a foreign bird,

he keenly felt and disliked the cold.


He was very vain, and would spend hours on a warm day

showing himself off. Holding himself perfectly upright like a

Pouter Pigeon, with bill pressed down over the crop, he would

draw in and hold his breath—like the frog in the fable — until he

reached the bursting point. I do not know that his neck-feathers

were really much elongated, but he made the most of them by

the manner in which he depressed the chin while elevating the

head. The small smooth face of the bird, with the eyes protuding

as if they would start from their sockets, set in a frame or frill of

the long neck feathers, reminded me of an Owl’s face when



( c ) Thus the male ; but I cannot speak for the female, who is comparatively very quiet


and retiring'.—R. P.



