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bird, a Salmon-crested Cockatoo, appeared to tear out its feathers,

and that certainly looked as if it were a case of irritation.

Possibly—I do not know—a case of a Uvoean Paroquet I had

which ate its feathers—at least they went, and were not in the

cage—may have been from something lacking in its diet, which

it missed and tried to supply with its feathers. I had also a

grey which moderately plucked itself before it laid, and that

may have been a nesting instinct; and the case which I stopped,

I stopped by changing from a cage to the aviary, and back again

to the cage, when I saw any signs of the habit. But in almost

all cases the trick, for it is that and nothing else, is learnt while

the bird is preening its feathers. As it passes them through its

beak, it one day begins to nibble, and then you can hardly ever

stop the trick. Even turning them loose in the open air will

not stop it. I had a Gang-Gang Cockatoo from the Zoological

Gardens I tried to cure, and by supplying him with plenty of

wood, green and dry, I got him to leave his breast and back

alone. I turned him loose in a tree, and I thought if he would

only let his flight feathers grow, so that he could fly, I should be

able to restore him a decent bird. His flights began to grow,

and just as I was hoping he might get enough to fly with, he bit

them all off in one or two days. Then I pulled out all the

stumps, and hoped when they were all growing evenly, he would

let them alone. Not a bit of it. Just as they were getting a

hopeful length, they all went again. It is possible that putting

paraffin on the feathers every day might have stopped it, or still

more certainly a leather collar fastened round his neck, and

sticking out far enough to prevent his getting at his feathers.

But it seemed to me cruel to keep a bird from touching his

feathers for months. The bird was not tame enough to let him¬

self be caught willingly. With a very tame bird one might take

the collar off once a week, spray him, and after he had arranged

his plumage, put it back. But, as all authorities say, prevention

is better than cure. A parrot is as restless as a monkey, and if

you don’t want him to pluck himself, give him plenty to do. I

daresay modern cages have much to answer for. In old days the

binding wire was never soldered, and the birds were always

trying to unfasten it. In modern cages they have nothing to

take hold of, by which they could get it off. One might suppose

that two birds together would amuse each other, and that where

two were kept in one cage, they would not acquire this habit.

But they will, just as a child in the nursery will bite its nails, no

matter how many children it may have to play with. If any¬

body likes to hold his opinion that it is from irritation caused by



