A derelict pelican.



339



the roof of the house. For a time all went well, but just when the

young were about half-grown an officious Brown’s parrakeet and

his mealy rosella wife insisted on adopting them, a proceeding which

so disgusted the rightful parents that they left for good. The

Brown’s reared his foster-children, but I wish he had minded his

own business all the same.



A DERELICT PELICAN.


By Alice Hutchinson.


The pelican, whose portrait appears in this month’s magazine,

was a waif and stray, found by some boatmen two or three years

ago, drifting about on Lago Maggiore, near Locarno. They captured

him and brought him safely to shore and presented him to the

townspeople who received him with open arms and gave him the

‘‘ Freedom of the City.”


The King of Italy on hearing about him was so interested

that he sent a beautiful mate to Locarno to cheer the poor lonely

alien, fearing he might mope and die in this strange land, away from

all his belongings. But unfortunately the lady died and her hard¬

hearted widower lives a perfectly happy and contented life in his

own house and grounds, in company with a few swans and fancy

ducks, to whom (as long as they take no liberties) he is supremely

indifferent—a threat with that big ugly beak teaches them to keep

their distance, but on the whole he is not aggressive. Note the

look of contempt and superiority cast on the swan by that wicked

little eye.


His favourite place for standing to be admired is on the fancy

bridge over the little piece of ornamental water, where my lord

takes his bath. You will see him in the picture, having just come

out and preening himself in the sun : he had not realised that he

was being photographed, for he is so vain, that as soon as he sees

a camera he begins to strike attitudes. A third picture showed

him beginning to dance a tango, and looking very conscious, with

his wings crossed over each other, but the effect is rather spoilt by

his dancing at that critical moment for it has turned one of his

elegant little feet into a frying pan. I took these photographs in

June when his plumage was in great perfection.



