18 BILLS OF BIRDS 



but all are practically, the same tool. Yet the last 

 distinctly points the way to those modifications by 

 which the simple bill is gradually adapted to one 

 special purpose or another, until it becomes a wonder- 

 ful mechanism in which the original intention is 

 quite out of sight. 



At this point I find an instructive parable in my 

 tool chest. Fully half of the tools are just knives. 

 A chisel is a knife, a plane is a knife set in a block of 

 wood, a saw is a knife with the edge notched. More- 

 over, there are many sorts of curious planes and 

 saws, each intended for one distinct kind of fine work. 

 All these the joiner has need of, but a schoolboy 

 would rather have one good, strong pocket-knife 

 than the whole boxful. For, just in proportion as 

 each tool is perfected for its own special work, it 

 becomes useless for any other. And your schoolboy 

 is not a specialist. He wants a tool that will cut a 

 stick, carve a boat, peel an apple, dig out a worm — 

 in short, one that will do whatever his active mind 

 wants done. 



Now apply this parable to the birds. If you see a 

 bill that is nothing but a large and powerful pair of 

 forceps, good for any rough job, you may know 

 without further inquiry that the owner is no limited 

 specialist, but a " handy man," bold, enterprising, 

 resourceful, and good all round. He will not starve 

 in the desert. No wholesome food comes amiss to 

 him — grub, slug, or snail, fruit, eggs, a live mouse 

 or a dead rat, and he can deal with them all. Such 



