on the Paradise Flycatcher.



303



although his native jungles were in sight all the time and indeed

he did but little flying, contenting himself with letting me

do the catching of the insects whilst he did the eating. When,

however, I wanted him to go back into his cage as darkness

approached I found he was very firm in his refusal to enter

therein and it was not until I got him some chopped fowl’s liver

and put it inside that he consented to go in. Before long I gave

up shutting him in his cage at all and then, finding I did not

insist upon it, he generally went in on his own accord at roosting

time and all I had to do was to see that the fastenings were

closed.


After he had been with me for a couple of months I wanted

the cage for some Erythropus avmrensis and so Mr. Flycatcher

had to give up his sleeping compartment and thence forward he

slept in mine, generally selecting the rung of my towel horse or

the edge of a picture as his perch. At the same time he entirely

disapproved of his cage being given up to the Kestrels and

would often fly up against the wires, cursing the inmates in the

most awful bird language until he thought he had really fright¬

ened them badly, when he would come back to my shoulder and

condescend to eat anything I caught for him.


His voice, when swearing at the Kestrels and sometimes

when annoyed for other reasons, was very loud and harsh, often

almost a scream, but he had quite a pretty little song in the

spring and often used to whistle away to me in the mornings and

evenings.


He was distinctly a lazy bird and always preferred sitting

on my head, shoulders or arms and eating what I caught for him

to flying about and catching insects for himself, and it was

months before I could get him to earn his own livelihood, and

always he was ready with an excuse for letting someone do the

hard work for him.


Butterflies he disdained but he enjoyed grasshoppers,

caterpillars, woodlice, grubs and beetles and, above all, houseflies

and for these latter he would always exert himself. Perhaps,

however, even more than house flies or anything else living he

enjoyed little tit-bits of fowl’s liver raw, and it was very pretty to

see him swooping up off a chair-back, high up, almost to the



