NURSING. 



wards, the bird will probably get away whilst j'ou 

 {ire doing it. 



To ensure further quiet, I sometimes put a clean 

 empty sack under the lid, over half the box, to 

 make a quiet corner for the poor invalid. A great 

 advantage in having a stove in your aviary is its 

 value in sickness, for warmth means so very much 

 to any sick bird. In the winter months, when the 

 nights are long and dark, and the patient would 

 die if left so long unable to see its food, I think 

 it is better to keep a lamp burning, but, of course, 

 not letting its full rays fall on the cage to disturb 

 the patient. 



Broken Limbs, etc. — This is not an accident that 

 often happens, but if it should take place it is well 

 to know what to do. I always prefer, if possible, 

 to handle a bird alone, but in the case of clipping 

 beaks and setting limbs 3'ou need someone to help 

 you, because you must have both hands free and 

 the patient steady. I once had a very bad break, 

 high up in the thigh, of a Bar-shouldered dove's 

 leg. It was caused by a Conure, and the leg 

 dangled like a bit of string. You need some cotton 

 wool, a splint, and some thread or very narrow- 

 tape. Your splint can be made from part of a 

 wooden match or, what is perhaps better, the split 

 half of a quill pen, because it fits round the leg 

 if the break is in the featherless part; otherwise 

 it would not have any advantage over the match. 



Hold the bird's leg in the position it w'ould 

 naturally be, and gently put a strand of cotton 

 ■wool between the leg and the splint, so that there 

 is nothing hard actually touching the leg ; put on 

 the splint over this, and over this again, right 

 round the leg, some more medicated cotton wool, 

 and bind all round firmly with the thread or tape, 

 but do not put it so tight as to stop the circulation. 

 Be sure and have your splint a comfortable length 

 — ascertain how long it should be before you start 

 operations. When finished put the bird in a large 

 cage without perches, a bed of hay on the floor, 

 and food and water within easy reach. In the case 

 of the Bar-shouldered dove the leg knit together 

 very firmly, and it only slightly stuck out a little 

 (though the bird used it very well), as, unfortu- 

 nately, I did not set it perfectly straight. 



Another case I had was that of a broken beak in 

 a little Rufous dove. The top half was just hang- 

 ing by a thread of skin, and it could not eat its 

 seed in consequence. I plastered the beak over 

 with numbers of strips of court plaister cut very, 

 very narrow and of only a short length, so as not 

 to impede the action of the beak in any way. The 

 dove rapidly began to recover, and in a short time 

 could hold the seed and swallow it. Then, most 

 unfortunately, it gave the beak a fresh knock 

 when I was not by, and lost the injured part 



entireh'. I could do nothing for it then, and 

 finally it died. I was terribly disappointed, for I 

 quite thought it would have recovered, and it was 

 such an interesting case. 



I have never had a broken wing, but I have had 

 several knocked wings, that somehow renders them 

 stiff and useless. I do not think anything can be 

 done for this form of accident. The bird will 

 never fly again. All you can do is to fix it a low 

 perch, a few inches from the ground, across the 

 corner of an aviary, so that it may not be com- 

 pelled to keep on the ground. This is bad for any 

 bird — the cold, damp, and frost will soon ruin any 

 bird's feet. Bleeding Heart pigeons keep much 

 on the ground, and now and then their feet suffer — 

 that is the chief reason why they must be brought 

 in for the winter. 



I once had a bird that got mortification in its 

 feet. The flesh turned black, then dropped off, 

 leaving the bone of the toes bare. Finally these 

 broke off (just as I was trying to screw up my 

 courage to amputate them), and the foot became 

 almost a stump, but the bird seemed otherwise 

 unaffected. Don't fix up any slanting branches 

 for your wing-crippled birds to climb up. If you 

 do they will some day be startled, fall, and injure 

 themselves, because their wings cannot save them, 

 so they fall heavily. 



And now I have got to the end of my story 

 about my birds, though if I could talk to you for 

 ten minutes I could tell you a lot more, and per- 

 haps explain it all better than in writing. 



If you once start keeping birds, the love will 

 probably grow on you, and your own keen 

 interest in your pets will teach you more 

 than any book. Keep a note-book of their 

 doings all the year through. Not only will 

 the nesting dates be a help, but you will 

 find your log books very pleasant reading when 

 what is now the present has become the past. 

 Make your birds as happy as you can by personally 

 thinking out all you can for their comfort, and 

 by encouraging those who have the care of them 

 for you to love and study them too. Remember 

 you have taken away the best gift a bird has — its 

 ffee life — by keeping it captive. You owe it some 

 care and consideration for this. 



I save my birds' prettiest feathers, and keep 

 them in my desk in the passage. Some day 1 

 think I will mount them, placing each group 

 between two sheets of very thin glass, not too 

 large, and binding the plates round, after the 

 manner of a lantern slide, adding the name of each 

 bird the feather came from. But this is one of the 

 things I think I shall never have time to carry 

 out. 



