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of doors—and it was a winter and a half, as we say up here. I

remember the day of the awful blizzard : the snow was up to my

waist (and I stand six feet) and the cold was of Arctic intensity,

and the wind cut like a sharp razor. The Barrabands, however,

did not seem to mind it at all.


About May, I began to notice signs of nesting unmistak¬

able to an old Parrot keeper; and, after awhile, Mrs. Barraband

disappeared. Now, in their house there are two logs, and so sly

was the lady in her ways, and of such lightning-like rapidity

in her movements, that for long enough I located the nest in the

wrong hole ; and well I might, for she entered the hole like a

streak of greased lightning. It reminded me of Maskelyne

and Cooke, in Bondon. “ Now, gentlemen and ladies, there is

positively no deception ; now, look carefully—whist! and that is

how it is done.”


I cannot tell the size of the eggs, because I was not fool

enough to look at them. I cannot tell (as Mr. Gedney so often

does) what colour the fluff of the young was like. My Parrakeets

won’t stand such liberties—and I don’t believe his did either !


The hen sat very steadily; I cannot say exactly how long,

about eighteen days, I fancy, but will not be certain. The cock

sat on the outside of the log where the hen was not, and so

further misled me, as I made sure she was inside where he kept

watch and ward. I thought this a bit of unnecessary meanness !

After a time, I could hear the well-known sounds which told my

joyful and experienced ear that youngsters had arrived. Strange

to say, I did not put my hand in and see. I knew the only thing

was t.o wait and possess my soul in patience.


No one but a Parrot-keeper will ever know the agonies of

hope and fear through which I passed during the next five weeks.


After about ten days, Papa Barraband began to visit the

nest at intervals ; spending all other available time in swallowing

seed as fast as his bill could work. At night, also, he did what

I have never known any other cock Parrakeet do—he slept in

the nest and assisted in brooding the young. This I consider

greatly to his credit as it shows him to be a thoroughly “family”

man. How many human fathers nurse their babies at night, I

wonder, in the Avicultural Society ? Mind, I don’t say all Papa

Barrabands do. I will not “ generalize,” as our late Secretary

was fond of iterating, “ from a single specimen” ! !


The first youngster left the nest on Monday, July 7th, and

was a fine lusty chap. In colour he—for I think him a he—



