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Correspondence.


GOULDIAN FINCHES.



SIR,—Will you kindly tell me if Gouldian Finches would live in a warmly

situated outdoor aviary here during the winter, and would the cold be too great ?


Which are the hardier, Red-faced or Black-faced, and how can you distin¬

guish cocks from hens ? A. A. THOM.


The following reply has been sent to Mr. Thom :—■


My experience of Gouldian Finches is that the Black and Red-headed

phases are equally hardy. I left my own birds in an outdoor aviary for some

weeks after the commencement of sharp frosts : their bath-water was frozen over

every morning and, after I had smashed the surface ice with a hammer, the

Gouldian-finches immediately jumped into the ice-cold water and bathed with

the greatest pleasure.


Cocks can be told at a glance from hens (apart from other differences) by

the purplish ultramarine breast-belt; in the hen this belt is dull rosy lilac. I

still have one cock red-head living of the pair which I bred in 1905 ; it is there¬

fore nearly eight years old, but quite active and healthy.


If your aviary has a covered portion I should think it safe to winter

Gouldian-finches in it. A. G. BUTLER.



BIRD - WATCHING IN FLORIDA.


A pleasant picture of Bird-watcliing comes from Tampa, in Florida. Mr.

JAMES Shaw, an octogenarian correspondent, writes


‘ 1 1 have many friends among the birds, principally Blue Jays, Mocking¬

birds, a small bird I call a Wren, several kinds of Woodpeckers, Mourning Doves,

Humming Birds, and occasionally Butcher-birds. Opposite my house a small

stream, known as Spanish Town Creek, flows down to the bay, and is a favourite

resort for my feathered friends ... I am principally attracted by the Mocking¬

bird—such a cheerful, happy, companionable bird—a live oak close to our porch

is a favourite spot; no false modesty about him ! Many times he will come

down where I can almost touch him, and thrill me with his matchless song.

His dropping song when approaching his mate is wonderful. He sings the first

stanza in a low dreamy voice, and then as if the sweetness of his love exalted

him, he lifts his voice higher and higher until the air rings with its melody.

His mate twitters an answer. His response comes like the notes of a silver

trumpet. He springs up into the air and slowly drops singing, alighting on a

twig above his mate, and beginning to fall from branch to branch, but singing

more softly and sweetly as he approaches her.


I have seen this many times as I sit in my porch.”


(From Bird Notes and Neivs).



