
312 A TRUE STORY OF A PET BIRD. 
our society to theirs. He was at first perfectly unmindful 
of the report of a gun, even sitting upon my shoulder when 
I fired, or often perching upon the gun-barrel when I carried 
him with me in my rambles. One day, however, wishing 
to secure one of these flycatchers which flew about our 
camp, and intending if possible to drive them away, I shot 
at one of three which were sporting together in the air, 
thinking that Chippy was sitting upon the tent ; fortunately 
I missed the bird I shot at, which proved to be our pet, he 
flying in great consternation to the camp, having probably 
been touched by one of the shot, although not at all injured. 
His disregard for a gun was now at an end, and the mere 
picking up of this instrument of death was sufficient to 
cause his immediate retreat, retiring with terror depicted 
upon his countenance, the feathers lying close to his body, 
his crest elevated and neck outstretched, removing to another 
perch each time I advanced. The moment, however, I laid 
the gun aside, all his fears were over, and upon approaching 
him, when I reached out my hand he would hop upon my 
finger with perfect confidence. Although I might carry him 
in this way all about the camp, if I approached the gum 
which leaned against the tent, he made a precipitate retreat. 
We carried Chippy with us, from camp to camp, for 
nearly two months longer. Everywhere we went he excited 
the curiosity and wonder of all persons, the Indians included, 
and we had not the least fear of losing him. One morning; 
however, in the latter part of September, we missed his 
' familiar awakening twitter, and when we arose from oUF 
blankets he could not be found. Search was made through- 
out the day but without success, and a large hawk having 
been seen early in the morning hovering about the camP 
seemed to explain the cause of his disappearance. He was 
never afterwards seen. 



