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Mr. Reginald Phileipps,



swiftly, cruelly, horribly*. As regards this Bulbul, I have formed

the opinion that, when wild, it does not necessarily roost high,

but rather seeks the densest thickets or the thickest foliage.


It is a little curious, but it used to be her custom to go to

roost exceptionally early, in the long days of summer often some

two hours before the other birds ; and if she were disturbed after

having settled down on her perch and nestled her head between

her wings, although the light might still be fair, she would behave

as if purblind, dazed, stupid, perhaps blundering on to another

perch hard by, from which, however much exposed, she would

not voluntarily move until the following morning. Small wonder

that her instinct taught her to hide herself well away before

going to sleep. Presumably her eyes were focused so as to be

in suitable touch with the glare of a tropical sun, and she was

unable to see in other than a good light. I speak in the past

tense as, during the last two years or so, I have not noticed any¬

thing especially out of the way in this respect; presumably she

has got accustomed to the fogs and darknesses of London ; if

she has not done so, it is not from want of opportunity !


When I look back over my notes, it is almost startling to be

reminded what a difficulty and labour it used to be to keep this

bird alive. She could not stand cold, for her dress was like that

of an Arab, loose and airy, so loose, indeed, that, if handled, the

feathers came out wholesale; and, in my cool birdroom and

exposed aviary, for some two-thirds of the year she had to exist

in an atmosphere of shiver, excepting during the too frequent

intervals when she had to be caged and nursed. Moreover, she

was so ridiculously timid that she would hide herself away,

neglecting food and shelter, should any bird larger than a blue¬

bottle come within a yard of her. And she required the most care¬

ful dieting, for symptoms of seizures were not infrequent and



* Is the wild bird never safe, either by day or night ? What dweller in the country

is not familiar [if he has eyes and ears !] with the agonising cry of the Blackbird when

seized by the Sparrow Hawk, ere it has time to dart into the hedge or thicket but a few

yards distant ? I have seen [generations ago] a sitting Sparrow Hawk, a female, come off

her nest in the late evening, and for several evenings in succession, enter from below some

tall laurels in the shrubberies, and, working upwards, attack the sleeping Greenfinches, etc.,

who had gone to roost under the leaves, and not once go away empty handed—and all was

done so quietly ! R.P.



