on Nesting of the Scaly-fronted Finch. 365


liberally supplied. Perhaps in this connection I may be permitted

to tell you a little story.


Once upon a time, long long ago, a pair of Zebra Finches

nested in a garden aviary. In due course four little Zebra Finches

made their appearancs. But the father of this flourishing family was

of a roving disposition and one day he squeezed himself through a

very small hole into the adjoining division of the aviary. Having

achieved his greatest ambition he was disappointed to find that the

unknown land was not all his fancy had painted it. He turned to

come hackbut, alas, he had forgotten the “ Open, Sesame.” So he

flew up and down calling loudly to his wife and family, whom he

had left to look after themselves, until at last he attracted his owner’s

attention. Then came the first tragedy. It was nearly dark and his

owner clumsily hit him with the rim of the net ; he fell to the

ground and his life-blood stained his white waistcoat.


The brave little mother did not desert her family ; all day

long she flew to and from the seed tin, digesting hard seed for them,

and in due course they left the nest. But every day she grew weaker

and weaker, because her digestion could not stand the strain. The

owner saw the second tragedy coming ; he supplied boiled seed,

soft-food, green-food—everything in fact except the one thing which

alone could have averted that tragedy ; he was not neglectful, simply

ignorant. The day came when she flew to the seed-tin for the last

time ; on the way back she fell to the ground from sheer

exhaustion. Then her starving family gathered round her, pressing

closely against her and calling piteously for food. Even in her death

agony she could not disregard that call. Once she tried to feed them

—twice she tried ; then her eyes filmed over and her spirit flitted

back (as we will hope) to that thirsty land where the wattle blooms

and the eucalyptus sheds its perfume. Then came the third tragedy ;

all day the four young ones, huddled together on the ground, called

vainly for food ; when the evening came, there was silence.


Then the aviculturist wrung' his hands and asked himself

what he ought to have done. No one told him, but, in course of

time, he found out and said to himself—“ What a fool I have been,

what a fool ! ” and he made a vow that, when an opportunity

occurred, he would strike a blow for the better way of aviculture. At



