176 
ALMOST HUMAN 
afraid of losing them, and, the temptation being too strong to resist, they 
frequently answer that the birds have been trained to stay at home. In 
reality they have been pinioned at the first joint of one wing. This is 
a very slight operation, but is efficacious for life. They seem to be far 
more contented than their brothers and sisters who are cooped up in 
the eagles’ aviary, and who can only exercise their huge wings by flapping 
them on the ground or from their perch. The pinioned birds get by 
a series of lopsided flutters from branch to branch to the tops of the 
numerous trees in their compound, and then try balancing themselves for 
flight. They are obviously puzzled why they cannot soar away into the 
inviting blue, and occasionally one will overbalance and come down with 
a queer flying leap. If this overbalancing should take place on top of 
one of the trees bordering the fence, he will possibly come down, not 
into his paddock, but on to the road outside. Quick as thought he 
realises that he has got away from all restraint, and, with a joyous shak- 
ing of his wings, he sets off to explore the wide, unknown world. News 
of his escape soon comes to the gate, and a keeper, armed with a stick 
about four feet long, goes off in search of the runaway. Although the 
bird cannot fly, he can run very fast, using his wings as sails, and it 
takes a little while to run him down. He is never cornered without a 
very strongly worded protest on his part. He sits up on his tail and the 
second joints of his legs, and is ready to grip with his feet as well as to 
bite with his beak as soon as a chance comes his way. Sometimes he 
throws himself down on his back, and grips as the crow does, squealing 
horribly all the time. In that position he rests at bay, waiting until the 
stick is thrust near enough for him to get hold of it with his claws, and 
then seeking an opportunity of getting the holder with his beak. The 
man then shakes a hat or bag in his face, and of course he cannot resist 
the temptation to bite at it. This gives his captor the opportunity he 
wants of gripping the tip of his unpinioned wing and that is too wide 
for him to turn upon it and bite the man. If however, the mistake is 
made of catching the shortened wing, the bird soon has a revenge he 
never fails to take. The cap or bag is dropped, and his beak meets in 
the wrist of his tormentor. Held by the tip of his good wing, he can 
do nothing but submit to fate and follow submissively wheresoever he 
is led. It would be difficult to find a better example of fallen majesty 
than such a returning warrior. All dignity forgotten, he squeals for 
mercy as he hops from stick to ground and from ground to stick in his 
futile efforts to release his imprisoned wing. He looks most comically 
like a young truant from school who is being haled before his master to 
receive the reward of iniquity. As soon as his mates see him coming 
along the walk in this most undignified fashion, they rush towards the 
