THE FLAMINGO 165 
feeding they get here it is surprising they still keep 
to these waters in the numbers they do. At a 
town called Matariya I visited a great local bird- 
dealer, one Angelino Tedeschi. His place was 
on the outskirts of the town, and was a collection 
of tumble-down shanties made of straw, matting, 
and boards. Behind his own dwelling, which was 
literally worse than any Irish cabin, were three 
enclosures made of tall reeds and split palm 
branches about eight feet high, with more open 
lattice-work on the top; in these enclosures were 
fully fifty to sixty Flamingoes. I walked right in, 
and the birds did not stampede or dash themselves 
about, yet Angelino said they had not long been 
caught. They were all in surprisingly good 
condition, considering their numbers and cramped 
space. A door at one end was opened and they 
filed out into the adjoining enclosure to have their 
bath—a very dirty, muddy hole in the sodden 
ground, but they seemed to enjoy it; one after the 
other, and sometimes two or three at a time, all 
went in, and drank and splashed about, trumpet- 
ing a little, and then they were driven back. I 
bought a particularly brilliant-coloured one which 
had died that day, for the price the man asked, 
three shillings, which seemed to me very cheap, as 
