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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



Photograph by L. W. Brownell 

 SCRAGGLY BABY KINGFISHERS LINED UP FOR A SUN BATH 



Usually hatched on a mass of regurgitated fish bones, these pinfeathered youngsters pass the first 

 days of their lives in a burrow underground. The kingfisher digs a home in a bank, most commonly 

 beside stream or lake. 



the slopes of the mountain El Yunque, I 

 found them resting in dead tree tops after 

 rain to dry their feathers in the sun. 



MAY LIVE TO BE EIGHTY 



The African gray parrot has been known 

 in captivity for hundreds of years, and is 

 the most famous of those species that imi- 

 tate human speech and other sounds. Some 

 of the Amazon parrots also are excellent 

 mimics and in America are more familiar 

 than the African species. Certain cock- 

 atoos also learn to "speak." 



Ability in this direction varies with dif- 

 ferent individuals, some being gifted and 

 some extremely stupid. Parrots learn by 

 hearing often repeated sounds or phrases. 



It is not unusual to see one that whistles, 

 barks like a dog, mews like a cat, and re- 

 peats various sentences, sometimes so aptly 

 as to make the bird appear more intelli- 

 gent than it really is. 



Curiously enough, this mimicry seems to 

 be developed only in captivity. I have 

 known various species of Amazon parrots 

 in the wild state, where they are noisy and 

 vociferous, but have never found one with 



the slightest tendency to imitate familiar 

 forest sounds. 



The longevity of parrots is proverbial, 

 and, while sometimes it may be exaggerated, 

 there is no question but that some individ- 

 uals live for many years. 



In the National Zoological Park in Wash- 

 ington, D. C, is a sulphur-crested cockatoo 

 called "Dick." He is the only living indi- 

 vidual of the animal stock brought to the 

 park from the Smithsonian grounds when 

 the zoo was established in its present loca- 

 tion in 1890. At that time this bird was 

 fifteen or twenty years old. Dick in 1936 

 is in fine feather, and I have been able to 

 see no difference in him during the more 

 than twenty years I have known him. 



There are various records of parrots that 

 lived to be eighty and a few accounts, less 

 definitely proved, of birds that reached one 

 hundred years. 



On a pleasant May morning in the Can- 

 tabrian Mountains of northern Spain I 

 followed a woodland path that led me be- 

 neath the opening leaves of oaks and chest- 

 nuts. Strange notes of unseen birds came 

 from every hand and I strained ears and 



