Birds. 



8751 



the sides of solitary cascades, which abound in the hilly parts. 

 There, like the rest of its tribe, it feeds on freshwater insects, 

 Crustacea and Mollusca. I met with it on one of my rambles into 

 the hills. It was perched on a large slab of rock that stood in a 

 running stream. It kept throwing up its tail like a wren, and, hopping 

 to the edge of the stone, dashed into the water ; in a few seconds it 

 reappeared at the surface and regained the rock. Till then I was not 

 quite sure what bird it was ; there was no longer any mistake. My 

 time was short, and T could watch no longer, so I secured my speci- 

 men and went my way. It was a likely place and season for its nest, 

 but in my hurried search I could not detect it. 



33. Petrocincla manilensis [Bodd.) This bird is partial to rocky 

 hills near the sea. Its song is very sweet, and is often uttered on the 

 wing. It builds its nest in the hollows and clefts of rocks and walls, 

 adapting it to the shape of the chosen locality, and constructing it of 

 fine flexible twigs, lined with fine grass, wool, and occasionally a few 

 feathers. These are loosely put together, without much art. It lays 

 from three to five pale greenish blue eggs. In autumn, after the first 

 moult, the young leave the hills and frequent the housetops of the 

 town, about which they are constantly to be seen chasing one another, 

 and singing their agreeable notes. 



34. Oreocincla Hancii, Swinhoe. 



35. Turdus chrysolaus, Temrn. PL Col. 537, and Faun. Japon. 



36. Turdus pallidus, Gm. One of this species paid frequent visits, 

 in January, 1862, to our garden at Tamsuy, and 1 had then oppor- 

 tunities of closely watching its habits. He used to hop about over the 

 weeds with a stately movement. He stands upright, and turning his head 

 on one side with a knowing look, as if something caught his eye, makes 

 a bob forward and grapples the head of a worm, which he extricates 

 from its hole by repeated hops backwards. The worm is in his bill. 

 He stops for a second, as if to take breath, then hammers it against 

 the ground, shaking it at times like a terrier shakes a rat — then gulp, 

 and the worm disappears. But its size was large, and its moribund 

 wriggling down the oesophagus seems to produce a little inconvenience 

 to its destroyer, for he ruffles his feathers and appears discomposed. It 

 is only for a second ; he stoops his head and runs forward, with hur- 

 ried step, under an archway of tangled grass, and emerging further on, 

 continues his inspection of the rain-moistened mould, chuckling to 

 himself in a half-subdued tone, as if rejoicing at his luck in having 

 selected such a well stocked beat. He stops and raises his head; he 

 hears a noise. The intruder alarms him, and with a louder chuckle, 



