a small Aviary in the Hills in India. 373


Gouldians, great travellers brought for me from Calcutta to

Chitral by a Commissariat Agent. The Blackhead hen died

egg-bound after an unsuccessful attempt to rear a brood in camp

in February, 1904. With this lot I was fairly successful, three

broods of Avadavats (11), and after many good attempts, five

beautiful young Redheads were successfully reared to be

independent, of which one died soon and one hen died in the

winter. I have three splendid cocks now in full plumage, they

never showed any black where the red feathers were coming.

Unfortunately I lost the old cock in changing cages in the house,

and he was out of the window like a flash. I put out the lieu in

a trap-cage as a decoy, not noticing a hole in the cage, so I lost

her too. This was in October last when I was off to camp for

the winter, and my hurry must be my excuse for my careless¬

ness. I funked leaving them out for the winter, I wish I had

now, especially as they had eggs nearly due to hatch then. The

pair went off very happily, and I never saw them again. Four

of the eggs I put into a Spice-bird’s nest, leaving four of their

own as well. Judging from the noise my wife thinks that all

hatched, but, as is often the case with a first nest, no young lived

to leave the nest. As the only other birds that might have done

anything were the Goldfinches, I was rather pleased with the

results.


With the exception of part of the winter of 1901-2, and a

short bit at the end of 1903, I have been away every year for the

winter. One pair of Zosterops ( Palpebrosa ) survived a winter

chiefly on atta (coarse flour) my man forgetting my instructions.

However they looked very fit and had thoughts of nesting

during the next summer. These birds were generously fed while

I was at Bakloh, and I fancy the wild ones up here get very little

insect food in the winter, their staple being rotten wild medlar.

I have often watched a flock at work when the snow has been on

the ground. Very fascinating wee birds. My pair used to fly

up to me with a shriek of joy, and search my fingers for flies.

Their chief treat was a large broken open pupa, atlas- or moon-

moth for choice.


One word as to food and I am done. All my dishes are

placed inside another to save mess to a certain extent. The only



