The Breeding of the Cordon Bleu at uberty. 255 
only if one inspected it very closely that the cock or hen would 
pop out of the hole at the side and commence a thrush-like 
chatter of annoyance in the hushes near hy. 
Clearly it was going to be a race against time and weather. 
The long, hot summer could not last for ever, and what chance 
would tender nestlings, intended for a tropical climate, have 
against fog and frost and cold rain ? Still, the fine weather held, 
and a cautiously inserted finger tip revealed the presence of 
young birds on October 17th. But on the 22nd a change came, 
and the weather became wet and unsettled. Un the 23rd it 
became beastly. I spent the afternoon trying to capture a poor 
little Blue-winged Lovebird — the last of a brood of six — wdio 
had accidentally been left out when the rest of his family were 
caught up two days previously. About midday I heard him 
calling in the trees, and I hastily brought out the others in their 
cage hoping to decoy him down. At first everything went 
well ; he called and they answered, and it seemed only a question 
of time before he discovered their whereabouts and could be 
restored to parental care — for he was too young to feed himself. 
But alas ! at that moment it began to rain — icy rain and torrents 
of it. The birds in the cage got cold and bored and stopped 
calling, and finally the young one flew feebly away out of sight. 
In desperation I released the father of the brood, hoping that he 
would find and feed his offspring before evening, and I then 
turned my attention to Cordon Bleus. I first caught a hen on 
the feeding tray, who was looking rather puffy ,(not the mother 
of the young), and then decided, as no brood could live through 
such a night, to take in the nest as soon as darkness came, with 
any birds, old or young, that it might contain. Accordingly I 
cautiously stopped up the entrance hole a few hours later, and 
then took the nest indoors. On opening it I found nothing at 
all, save an addled egg and a lining of nen's feathers. Clearly 
the young ones had flown a few days before. If they were not 
already dead the night would finish them. Certainly it gave 
them no chance if they were alive; about 10 o'clock tne sky 
cleared and the ground became white with frost, while a strong 
north wind blew through the trees. 
Next morning I was out early; I was more sad than 
surprised to find the corpse of the poor little Blue-wing lying 
