I 12 
NATURE NOTES. 
A WINTER CUCKOO. 
PARAGRAPH lately appeared in The Times with the 
above heading which has given rise to much interest- 
ing correspondence on the subject of cuckoos in general, 
and mine in particular, so that perhaps a fuller account 
of him may be interesting to bird lovers. 
I took “Jim” from a hedge sparrow’s nest close to the railway 
early last June, and hung him in a cage near his birthplace. 
His foster-parents were so assiduous in their attentions, that 
even when we removed the cage across the field to the tennis 
house they followed. Knowing of cases in which birds poison 
their young when unable to set them free, I took “Jim” into the 
house ; but the side door being always open, those faithful little 
birds were actually brave enough to venture inside and continue 
to feed their voracious foster-child, so I had to harden my heart 
and shut them out. I had no difficulty in feeding “Jim,” he 
was always more than ready for his food, and in spite of my jay 
and bullfinch showing him marked dislike, he was always trot- 
ting after them with an open mouth, but I could not induce 
them to pay attention to his wants. Even now, though he can 
feed himself (on the sly as it were), he expects to be fed, sitting 
on my finger ; he always tells me when he has had enough by 
promptly turning his back on me and making for his cage. 
Though only one note is distinctly recognized as belonging to 
the cuckoo (and which, it is believed, is not uttered in confine- 
ment), my bird has several — a particularly clear, melodious 
whistle, single notes, some like a quack and others reminding 
one of the squeak of a mechanical toy ; but his scolding voice is 
most comical- — a long chatter, with two very emphatic raised 
notes at the end — this when things do not go as he wishes. 
When he gets what he wants (in the shape of a meal worm, 
which his soul loves, and for which he will follow me anywhere, 
the very sight of the tin making him wildly excited) he gives 
contented chuckles, and now I notice that as spring advances, 
his voice is getting clear and liquid. 
Though “Jim ” appears to feel the cold, I know of a cuckoo 
who thrived last winter when the cold was so intense that the 
drinking water froze in his cage ! So we may conclude they are 
hardier birds (and I may add, far more interesting as pets, being 
very affectionate and easily tamed) than most bird books give 
them credit for. 
Perhaps wintry weather makes moulting difficult, for my bird 
is getting his new coat very slowly ; though quite half feathered, 
many invidious remarks are passed on his appearance — “just 
ready for the spit ! ” cS:c. — with an utter disregard to our feelings. 
His tail is our great trial, for though he does his best to grow one, 
he will sit down and so breaks the feathers before they have time 
to grow any length. 
