REMINISCENCES FROM THE MELBOURNE ZOO. 
49 
his opinion of her as she walked down the central path. So vigorous 
was his denunciation, so fervid his phrasing, so lurid his wrath, that 
she stopped and said: “I do believe that bird is swearing at me!” And 
there were others who believed it, too; but they also believed he was 
justified in doing so. He takes great notice of men when they approach 
his cage. If he likes them he will permit them to scratch his poll with- 
out doing them harm, but if for any reason he conceives a dislike to 
one, he will carefully set a trap. Bending his head as low as a Uriah 
Heep, he meekly solicits the favor of a scratch. The moment the man 
puts his finger in the cage, he gives it a sharp nip that usually draws 
out all the bad language the man has in him, and then Jacob throws back 
his head and laughs heartily at the success of his fine trick. As soon 
as the man resents this expression of pleasure, the bird dances in sheer 
happiness, and the unfortunate sufferer has no alternative but to get 
away from the callous creature as soon as possible. 
A LIVING TOMAHAWK. 
Mr. Martin, who has had charge of this and the other birds for a 
considerable time, says that he does not need a tomahawk with Jacob 
so near, for his mighty beak needs stronger work to keep it in order 
than cracking the maize and other grain given him for food, and so 
he has been given the task of cutting up the kindling wood. He will 
take a fair sized piece of deal and split it into splinters, all the time as 
happy as if he were denuding a tree of its nuts in his native forests. 
He shows the greatest liking for this friend, and that is the more remark- 
able because it is the first time in his long residence there that he has 
condescended to give his friendship to one of the staff. 
THREE’S COMPANY, FOUR’S NONE. 
In a large cage in the gardens are three other macaws, two 
military and one green one. Several times other macaws have been 
placed there to enlarge their circle, but they will have none of them. 
If the keepers were quick enough they saved the newcomer from an 
untimely fate; if not, the old birds indulged their cannibalistic instincts 
and ate the brains of their unfortunate relative. 
