TAMENE8S OF PHEASANTS. 23 



and left him on his back apparently in the agonies of death. 

 The domesticsj however, went to his assistance, and by their 

 kind attentions he was restored. Still his old antipathy 

 r evived with his returning strength, and in a day or two the 

 sight of crinoline again roused his wrath. Therefore, for 

 fear of his meeting with an untimely end from some other 

 strong-minded woman, it was decided that he should have his 

 wing clipped, and be kept prisoner within the walls of the 

 kitchen-garden." 



The wife of Mr. Barnes (formerly head keeper to Mr. D. 

 "VVynham, of Denton Hall, near Salisbury) carefully nursed 

 a very young hen pheasant with a broken leg. She got 

 well, and in course of time was turned out with the rest of 

 the brood into the adjacent woods. For several seasons after- 

 wards this hen brought her own brood to the keeper's lodge. 



Mr. T. B. Johnson, in his " Gamekeeper's Directory," 

 mentions one he had reared from the nest that became 

 uncommonly familiar : " It will follow me," he writes, " into 

 the garden or homestead, where it will feed on insects and 

 grass, and I occasionally observed it swallow large worms. 

 Of all things, however, flies appear to be its favourite food. 

 Before he was able to fly, I frequently lifted him into the 

 window, and it was truly amusing to witness his dexterity in 

 fly catching. He had been named Dick, to which he answers 

 as well as possible. Dick is a very social being, who cannot 

 endure being left alone; and if it so happen (as it 

 occasionally does) that the bird finds every person has quitted 

 the room, he immediately goes in search of some of the 

 family ; if the door be shut, and his egress thus denied, he 

 utters the most plaintive noise, evidently testifying every 

 symptom of uneasiness and fear in being separated from his 

 friends and protectors. Dick is a great favourite, and on 

 this account is suffered to take many liberties. When 

 breakfast is brought in he jumps on the table, and very 

 unceremoniously helps himself to bread, or to whatever he 

 takes a fancy; but, different from the magpie or jackdaw 



