on red rosellas at liberty.



333



Australian parrakeet, except a cockatiel and a budgerigar. Conse¬

quently the impression made by my first pair of rosellas is still fresh

in my memory. I expected to receive something about budgerigar

size, and my astonishment may be imagined when I found out my

mistake and saw the splendid plumage of my new purchases. They

were two fine birds, the cock being an especially perfect specimen,

showing all the striking yet harmonious contrasts in colour, which I

often think entitle the rosella to the first place in the lovely family

to which it belongs. They were acclimatized (coming from a gentle¬

man at Teddington, who never in my experience sells anything but

first-rate stock at moderate prices — 0 si sic omnes /) and although

it was winter I gave them their liberty together, after they had spent

a few days in an aviary. This I afterwards learned was a very risky

proceeding ; I should at least have kept the hen caged until her mate

had learned his way about, but by great good fortune I did not suffer

for my rashness. For some months the rosellas stayed to delight

me with their beauty ; then, when April arrived and I began to count

my unhatched chickens—two broods of six, that makes twelve, and

the old pair, fourteen to start the winter with—they, well, they just

vanished and no more was ever heard of them. At the time I sus¬

pected a human thief and went about with feelings of murder in my

heart, but in the light of subsequent experience I think it is just as

likely that they flew clean away out of pure cussedness, as is the

habit of so many of their tribe.


“ If you don’t at first succeed, try, try again ! ” is the

only motto if one is to establish parrakeets at liberty, and that

summer I bought eight more rosellas and turned them into a grass

enclosure with cut wings. Most of this lot were young imported

birds, but there was at least one old pair among them. They

throve well enough but strayed badly after they were able to fly,

and by the end of the winter only a solitary hen remained, who

had attached herself to a pair of Pennants. The cock of this pair

was exceedingly keen that his wife should choose a 40ft. perpen¬

dicular rain-pipe as a nesting place, and the rosella never lost an

opportunity of gazing eagerly down the uninviting opening whenever

the hen Pennant allowed her a chance. Finally, the Pennants decided

it wasn’t good enough and migrated into the unknown. The rosella



