A WINTER CUCKOO. 
113 
“Jim ’’ is a bird of great observation, with a bright intelligent 
eye. It is a curious fact that he refuses to notice me when 
wearing a light coloured blouse — I cannot even coax him to take 
a meal w'orm ! He retires grumbling to his cage, and stands 
making absurd curtsies, deep and swift, for all the world like a 
“jack in the box.” He does not know what fear is, and has 
plenty of pluck ; he is very quick of sight and hearing, dis- 
tinguishing my step from others, and chirping ; it is amusing to 
notice the lively interest he takes in all that goes on round him, 
often craning his long neck, the better to see. His health is 
now excellent, so that I have great hopes of his living to a green 
old age. 
Shrewsbury. E. Corbet. 
[ As a pendant to Miss Corbel’s interesting paper, we think it worth while to 
reprint an account which appeared in the Quarterly Magazine of the High 
IVycombe Natural History Society for April, 1S68. This magazine had a very 
limited local circulation, and the account will be new to the readers of Nature 
Notes.— Ed. N. N.] 
This bird was taken in a half-fledged state from the nest of a 
hedge-sparrow early in the month of June. The first food pro- 
vided for him was a boiled egg, which pleased his juvenile 
palate — bruised seeds and soaked bread were also given to him. 
After a few days worms and raw meat were offered. These 
provisions were greedily swallowed, though for some time he 
declined the trouble of feeding himself. During the severe 
weather, when worms could not be procured, raw meat was 
preferred ; but cooked meat, vegetables, bread and butter — 
indeed, almost anything — were devoured. On Christmas Day he 
dined off turkey and plum-pudding. Hot buttered crumpet was 
a favourite dish. The bird is extremely tame, the feature of fear 
towards any of the household seems quite unknown. As the 
door of his cage is frequently left open, the cat, attracted by the 
smell of meat, sometimes ventures to put her nose in, and is 
rebuked with a peck from his beak. Whenever a clatter of plates 
or knives and forks is heard in the kitchen, an answering note is 
heard from the cage, the cuckoo descends from his perch, and, 
should the. door be closed, knocks his head against it until a 
friendly hand attends to his wdshes. His eating is not confined 
to regular meal times, but he is stuffing all day long : probably 
the reason so few have lived is that they have never had enough 
given them to eat. The food is well shaken, passed several 
times through the bill, as if to soften it, then swallowed with a 
jerk of the head. 
The struggle of instinct at the usual time of departure spoiled 
his beauty. At night he was constantly found with his wings 
spread, beating against the cage. Darkening the cage did not 
prevent it ; the feathers of his long wings and tail were all broken. 
He had a cropped, queer appearance, and as the feathers show' 
no sign of grow’th, he will present a sad contrast to the brothers 
and sisters who have spent their winter under brighter skies in 
more genial climates. 
