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On White-crested Thrushes.



One day during the recent Whitsuntide holidays, I took

my j^oungest boy to Hull for the da}'-, and while there called

upon a certain well known bird dealer to see what he might

have on hand. Amongst other birds I noticed two White-crested

Thrushes in a big cage. These the dealer declared to be a pair ;

but 011 this point I felt like Hans Breittmann, ‘ skebdigal,’ as the

reputed lady kept on the bottom perch, like the immortal Mrs.

■Gummidge, in a very forlorn and subdued manner. However,

the dealer being a good sort, although still standing stoutly to

his own opinion, offered to allow me to take the birds home and

try them in an aviary. I gladly acceded to the offer; only to

find my judgment instantly confirmed ; for the reputed lieu

spent its whole da\r in seeking first for one city of refuge and

then another, and to save her life I had to move her to other

quarters. It was now a question once more of Cherchez la

femme.


Happening to write to a bird friend, announcing my return

to the ‘ birdy world,’ and asking him if he had anything he

could offer me, he returned a long list, and amongst them I saw

a Crested Indian Thrush scheduled. I accordingly wrote off for

it on the chance it might be a White-crested Thrush and a lady.

A few days later the bird came to hand, and whatever else it

might claim to be it certainly belonged to the ragged regiment.


I felt sure however at the first glance that I had got a hen,

and my private opinion was at once confirmed by the cock when

I introduced the stranger, for after contemplating each other for

a moment with the most offensive curiosity, they went into a

perfect shout of welcome. I think the cock’s shout was one of

astonishment! The hen was perfectly naked from the middle of

the breast, and to increase the grotesque effect she had three

broken and disjointed feathers in her tail. However, the

gentleman apparently considered that half a wife was better

than none, and very soon they were seated amicably side by side.

The enjoyment of female society, like other things, depends on

the scarcity.


I feed the Thrushes on my own mixture—which of course

I think the best in the world—and a fair supply of mealworms

and blaclcclocks. The poor clocks have a bad time. Each leg is



