BOOKS OF FEATHERS. 
1 37 
take it in, but there great care must be taken to place the wing 
feathers as they would be in nature — the primaries, secondaries, 
&c., in their right order, else the effect will be unnatural. The 
beak, eye and legs must be painted on the page ; a drop of gum 
on the eye will give brightness, only it must be very thick and 
allowed to become quite dry before closing the page. It is best, 
I find, to fill a wide-mouthed bottle with dry gum, and just cover 
the gum w r ith water, allow it to melt, keep stirring and adding a 
few drops of water till just right — no bought liquid gum equals 
one’s own preparation. In arranging a woodcock the two artist’s 
feathers (one at the tip of each wing), should be specially shown ; 
they are small and very stiff, and are used in miniature painting. 
The tail should be reversed to show the lovely white satin tip to 
each feather — the only contrast nature has permitted to the ex- 
quisite russet browns of the rest of the plumage. To make the 
book complete there should be a careful water-colour study of the 
bird on the opposite page, its Latin and English name, and a 
drawing of the egg. 
It may interest some to know how I obtained the ninety- 
one birds which fill my books. Some were the dried skins of 
foreign birds either given me by kind friends or purchased at 
bird-stuffers. The woodpecker and nuthatch were picked up 
dead in the garden. The dove and budgerigars were moulted 
feathers saved up until there were sufficient to make a page. 
Years after the death of our favourite parrot I found his wings 
had been preserved, so they appear as a memento of an old 
friend who lived as a cheery presence in my childhood’s home 
for thirty years. It is a pleasure to me to be able to say no 
bird was ever killed to enrich my books. The birds used for 
food supply an immense variety of kinds, such as wild ducks, 
pheasants, partridges, and all the species of wild fowl that can 
be purchased throughout the winter and spring would keep one 
busily occupied. Some birds have come to me in odd ways : I 
bought a heron which was hanging at a poulterer’s in an out-of- 
the-way street in London ; I picked up a fine white barn owl in 
a wood in Cornwall, a dead gull at Brighton, and a guillemot on 
the beach at Bournemouth, and a still rarer find was a stormy 
petrel lying near it — a bird only met with there once in two or 
three years. If it is once known that one is making a feather- 
book, sportsmen will often kindly reserve some rare bird to add 
to one’s store. 
It has often occurred to me that if the sportsmen them- 
selves could be induced thus to preserve the feathers of their 
victims they would be so struck with the beauty of their plum- 
age, the adaptation of colour to the habitat of the bird, the 
winter changes of colour — as in the ptarmigan and others — that 
more thought would be given to these marvellous creatures, and 
in time a more tender feeling of pity might arise, and instead of 
the useless slaughter of uneatable birds which is so constantly 
going on, the sportsman might in time be changed into the kindly 
