2 
NATURE NOTES. 
starvation lies before it, even though the means of living may be 
within its reach. This I proved in the case of my pet starling, 
Richard the Second. I had fondly hoped that on the dewy 
lawns in early morning he would find worms and grubs sufficient 
to satisfy his hunger during the time he was lost in the garden. 
When, however, I did light upon him, after his two days’ 
absence, he was in a miserably starved condition, and was only 
nursed back to health with constant care and attention. 
My blackcap was given to me by a lady who was no longer 
able to keep him. It was, when I received the bird, too late in 
the year to attempt to let him have his liberty, so it seemed best 
at any rate to keep him caged through the winter. Possibly 
next spring, when blackcaps are arriving from abroad, it may 
be fitting to let him have the option of choosing a mate for 
himself. I shall be truly sorry to part with such a delightful 
inmate, but at the same time I feel that it would not be kind 
to retain him against his will. At present he is my daily com- 
panion, often out of his cage and sitting on my writing table, 
absolutely without fear. He is a calm, thoughtful bird, with 
ideas of his own, which I often notice that he carries out in a 
very methodical fashion. 
As to the nightingale, I had many scruples about accepting 
it, for it seems to me a cruel thing to dream of caging such a 
bird. I cannot learn anything about the early history of this 
individual nightingale, but from its extreme tameness I imagine 
it must have been brought up as a fledgling from the nest. I 
am told that it was prize-winner at last summer’s Crystal Palace 
bird show. The lady who possessed it was suddenly called to 
India and gave the bird to a friend in town, whose cook took 
kind care of the sweet singer. From London the bird was sent 
to me at the beginning of winter, when to let it loose would 
have been certain death. I therefore keep it until next spring, 
when I hope it may be possible to let it go into the woods. 
Thus it has come to pass that the shy English nightingale, 
so seldom seen except perhaps in early summer, when we may 
chance to catch a glimpse of the plain brown bird which is 
filling the air with sweet music, perched on a spray in some 
woody copse, is now my intimate friend, living with me hour by 
hour, calmly happy and content and taking mealworms from 
my hand as readily as does my long-domesticated whitethroat 
“ Fairy.” She is my third vocalist, who sings almost through- 
out the year. She is now sitting on my shoulder whilst I am 
writing, and is crooning her exquisite little ditty into my ear as 
though to remind me that she, too, must not be forgotten. 
Never was there a sweeter bird or one more full of character. 
The tiny elf takes a keen interest in everything I do ; nothing 
escapes her keen eyes. 1 cannot turn my head but she must 
make a special chirp to call my attention and make me notice 
her. Brisk and alert, she seems to have nervous energy enough 
for half-a-dozen birds. Then how amusing are her little fits of 
