KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



285 



pass ; or to whistle to them. They quickly get 

 used to you, and recognise your step. Hang 

 them by themselves ; as the loudness of their 

 song would materially interfere with the 

 harmony of your smaller birds. There is a 

 great art in arranging your vocalists. If you 

 study this, you may turn your garden into 

 an aviary, and melody will be heard to pour 

 from every tree. 



We have now said all that is needful for 

 the proper management of this noble bird 

 when in confinement. We must however 

 repeat, that he is not adapted for a cage bird, 

 though he is numbered among them. No 

 one can doubt the truth of this who listens 

 to his wild song, especially at this season : — 



" See ! the Spring 

 Is the earth enamelling ; 

 And the birds on every tree 

 Greet the morn with melody. 

 Hark ! how yonder Throstle chants it, 

 Whilst his mate as proudly vaunts it !" 



It will be said, that it is not all our 

 readers who can enjoy these wild melodies in 

 the country ; and that they have as much 

 right to listen to the music of a thrush as 

 we have, although they do live in cities. It 

 is true ; and we have done our part towards 

 facilitating their object. We have done it 

 however " under protest." The only way to 

 enjoy the music of the thrush is — to hear his 

 '* song of freedom." His proud soul despises' 

 a cage. 



THE GLADNESS OF NATUBE. 



Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, 



When our mother Nature laughs around ; 



When even the deep blue heavens look glad, 

 And gladness breathes from the blossoming 

 ground ? 



There are notes of joy from the wood-lark and 

 wren, 



And the gossip of swallows through all the sky; 

 The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den ; 



And the wilding bee hums merrily by. 



The clouds are at play in the azure space, 



And their shadows at play on the bright green 

 vale, 



And here they stretch to the frolic chase, 

 And there they roll on the easy gale. 



There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, 



There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree, 

 There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the 

 flower, 

 And a laugh from the brook that runs to the 

 sea. 



And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles 

 On the dewy earth that basks in his ray, 



On the leaping waters and gay young isles — 

 Aye, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away ! 



ANECDOTES OF THE JACKDAW. 



In the 27th No. of the Naturalist, we find 

 the following reminiscences of two Jackdaws. 

 They are from the pen of Mr. Thos. Fuller, 

 Bath :— 



About two years since, one of my workmen, a 

 coach-smith, bought a nest with two young jack- 

 daws of one of those marauding urchins of boys, 

 who delight in the destruction of all within their 

 reach. He brought them to the shop, and placed 

 them upon a shelf immediately above his bench, 

 (he was a vice-man,) where they were constantly 

 under his observation. They thrived well, and 

 soon began to hop about the shop. They appeared 

 to take great delight in perching upon the edges 

 of the water-troughs near the forges, where they 

 watched the motions of the fireman attending to 

 his iron in the process of heating, and when taken 

 from the fire, and placed upon the anvil under the 

 operation of the hammers, these two birds faced 

 round, watching the process with apparent intense 

 interest. Notwithstanding the sparks of fire flew 

 close to them, they would only bob their heads 

 and shake their feathers. There were several 

 forges in the shop, but they seemed to prefer the 

 one that did the heaviest work, which was in con- 

 sequence that which displayed the greatest amount 

 of fire and diffusion of sparks. 



But their strongest attachment was to the vice- 

 man who brought them to the shop, and who fed 

 them in their nest. For some little time he took 

 them home on Saturday nights, and brought them 

 back again on Monday mornings, but he discon- 

 tinued doing so when they grew to maturity. If 

 a stranger came into the shop, the male bird would 

 descend to the ground, and immediately attack 

 the intruder by pecking at his feet. It was fre- 

 quently suggested to me that much time was 

 wasted by the workmen in playing with these 

 creatures , but so great is my love for natural his- 

 tory, and so much amusement did these lively 

 creatures contribute, that I could not summon re- 

 solution to order their expulsion. Frequently 

 have I seen the vice-man mentioned, after fitting 

 a nut upon a bolt, leave the bolt fixed in the vice 

 with the nut screwed down ; he would then shake 

 his finger at the male bird, by way of admonition 

 not to meddle with it ; when the impudent fellow 

 would immediately hop upon the vice, and begin 

 to unscrew the nut from the bolt with his bill, 

 which he would accomplish by half turns at a 

 time, looking up at the man at intervals very 

 knowingly ; and when he had got it quite off, 

 would drop it down and return to the side of his 

 companion, who appeared to share in his satis- 

 faction at the exploit. 



There were many other instances of the sagacity 

 of these birds, but it is unnecessary to trouble you 

 with them ; they had become so interesting to 

 me that it was with much regret I found, upon 

 going into the shop one Monday morning, that 

 the female was dead. She was found floating 

 upon the water in one of the cooling-troughs, upon 

 the edges of which they so frequently perched. 

 The vice-man declared it was her partner's doings, 

 and that the villain, who was rogue enough for 

 anything, had killed his wife. Whether it was 

 so or not he shewed no contrition, and continued 

 as mischievous as ever, until an occurrence took 



