an Aviculturist in Portugal.



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insects or soft food, and perhaps this may have been the cause

of the trouble. After the fifth or sixth fit I took to letting her

loose in the chance she might pick up some suitable food, and

ultimately she disappeared after returning to the aviary many times ;

perhaps she is alive now, she would take a lot of killing!


I had one little bird—we always called her “ Nannie,” who

was worth her weight in gold to me—-a widowed Bengalese, who

devoted her life to the rearing of children, she was never fated to

have any of her own. Some lazy Spice Birds used to lay and sit

for a few days, and then their family instinct waned ; but Nannie

was there to rear brood after brood for them with unfailing success.

She would visit, too, nest after nest of Zebras, Grassfinches, Man¬

nikins, etc., and never a fledgling went hungry. The different

parents would quarrel handsomely with one another, but none of

them had an evil word or peck for Nannie.


I know nothing about the finer points of mules, but I had

what I am convinced was one of the most beautiful Goldfinch-

Canary mules ever reared : pure white with the most delicate pink

markings. I had to offer the owner a sovereign for it before he would

part. Alas ! I lost it with my “ Sunset ” finch and some Cardinals

in one of my tragedies ; a supplementary aviary, in which they were;

being literally blown away in a heavy storm.


I had other tragedies ; notably when the movements of some

Quail in the aviary upset the generally perfect morals of one of my

terriers, who dug his way inside and killed these ratty-looking

things, and also my poor little doves. I never saw a dog more

ashamed; he carried the corpses on a string round his neck for

two days and absolutely refused food till they dropped off. But

my terriers were always on the look out for the birds’ natural

enemies, and many a stray cat fell a prey to them. They used

to watch at night in the bushes by the aviary, and a cat had little

chance against two terriers and a great Dane—all three on the

look out. They saved a Nightingale I kept in a cage, hung up

in the thickest part of a fig-tree and fed by mounting a pair of

steps. One day I left the steps by the cage and a tabby marauder

crept up them; but the dogs were not so careless as their master,

and next morning at four a.m. the Nightingale was singing his



