on our Cranes.



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another sound, more like a hiss, that is pretended indignation when I

play with him. He will spread his wings at me and make his neck

feathers all stand out straight, and puff out his white whiskers and

dance about, but it is all fun and show off, for “Paul” and I are

very good friends and quite understand one another. He knows

quite well that he has only to ask and to have, and that I am always

ready to feed him whenever he wants anything. He generally tells

me by looking in at the windows, or lingering by the garden door.


Our little broken-beaked Robin comes from his look-out in

the hawthorn tree close by to pick up “Paul’s” crumbs from the

sill. Or, if the window is open he will come inside and help himself

if any food is on the table. Sometimes he sits on the back of a

chair and gives us a sweet low song, just to show it is not quite

all cupboard love.


We have had this Robin now for some years and when first

the beak — the upper mandible—was broken it could not pick up

food from a flat surface, but only if we dropped it amongst grass. The

brave little bird weathered that hard time though we feared it would

die, and it has never forgotten us. The beak has grown only a little,

hut it has hardened, so can grasp the food better.


I think every bird lover should have an “ aviary Robin ” and

a ‘ house Robin.” The little fellows are there for the asking and by

their cheeriness, give us much more than we ever give to them.


The Cranes have a great aversion to cats and are very inquisi¬

tive about them, but not at all afraid. They will stalk them

amongst the bushes, and the cat generally looks very uncomfortable.

I once saw “ Paul ” keep our little wild squirrel a prisoner up a tree

for quite a long time. The squirrel wanted to come down for the

food we had put out and chattered with rage and disappointment,

while “ Paul ” with uplifted beak guarded him quite unmoved.


He is a strange bird, the other day I saw him very busy

picking up short twigs from the lawn and dropping them just an inch

or two away from where he picked them up, there seemed no object

at all in what he was doing.


Sometimes “ Paul” will pick up a stick and begin to dance

with it in his beak. He has one sad fault, lie loves to root up



