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the latter’s vile temper. Indeed, he will agree well with his

kind : a thing which the Nonpareil utterly refuses to do—his

motto seems to be, “ One world for one Nonpareil,” and he

certainly acts up to it.


I never could understand where the Indigo P'inch got his

name, as it is quite a misnomer. This cock is not indigo but

azure. The cock Indigo only assumes his gorgeous livery as

spring advances. During the autumn and winter months he is a

sober little gentleman in a drab suit with just a mere suspicion

of blue facings. The hen remains the same dowdy little thing

all the year round.


I have at present two adult pairs of Indigos in a large

aviary, which I call “ The Wilderness.” It is full of shrubs and

bushes, and long rank grass knee deep, interspersed with thorns

and nettles of gigantic proportions ; an ideal place from an

Indigo Finch’s point of view.


In this aviary they have been now two years, but till

the present season they never made any attempt at nesting ;

although the Nonpareils gave them a lead last year.


One day in the late spring of this year, I saw Mrs.

Indigo carrying about some bents in her beak : a sure sign of

nesting operations about to begin. She was very ‘ tickle’ about

a site, as we say up here ; and began on several, but finally

abandoned them for reasons best known to herself. At last,

however, she found a site to her liking at the very top of a tall

shrub. The nest was composed of the very slenderest materials,

and was no stronger than a White-throat’s. It was not built on a

solid foundation, or some convenient fork ; but suspended by the

strands from the branches, like a small Oriole’s nest. So light

and utterly flimsy was the whole affair that I was in despair. I

felt certain it could never stand any real work. Just as it was

finished and ready as I thought, I went to London for the inside

of a week, and on my return I found that an egg had been laid,

presumably that day. I looked the next morning for No. 2, but

it was not there, and I feared she would lay no more. However,

I waited in patience, and the next day there was a second egg,

and a third followed ; and then Mrs. Indigo settled down to her

duties.


Here let me make a strange note—the eggs were all with¬

out any markings whatever, and a dirty whitish blue in colour.

Now, in all books I have read, it is said that the eggs of the Indigo



