(6) THE BIRD WORLD. 
Jackdaws and Owls. 
I often come across pert young jackdaws, who 
flutter down from the ruined arches, and who 
hop about with grave blue eyes like the tint of 
February skies. These squeal loudly if one at¬ 
tempts to catch them, and peck ferociously at 
hand or glove. And on clear moonlight nights 
one can see the owls flying round the ruined 
church, and hear the young ones uttering their 
asthmatic cry for food. In the plantation be¬ 
hind the red-walled garden a pair of turtle 
doves build every year. They are shy birds, 
and in watching them complete silence is neces¬ 
sary. Each year young and old vanish in the 
early autumn and reappear in May. Besides 
the Wrekin doves, as we call them here, there 
are. several pairs of wood-pigeons, who build 
their nests of twigs in ivy-clad poplars and 
among the ruined walls. What an angry rustle 
they make when disturbed, and how loudlv they 
beat their wings in flight! 
And, best of all, we have every year most 
welcome visitors in a pair of redstarts, who build 
in a broken column or arch of the ruins. Coun¬ 
try folks have many names for this beautiful 
bird—fire-tails, flash-in-the-pans, red-hot-coals, 
are all names I have heard them called by. The 
cock redstart is an exquisitely lovely bird, only 
second to the kingfisher in brilliant plumage. 
He is about the size of a green linnet, and like 
a jewel in beauty when on the wing. 
Besides the wild birds who find a refuge in the 
ruined church, I have three little oyster 
catchers that came from Holland a few weeks 
ago. They patter up and down the lawns with 
curious hopping movements, and utter a shrill, 
wild cry as they follow me in search of food. 
These birds can be warmly recommended as 
inhabitants of a garden. They do no damage 
to plant or flower, and eat many a slug and 
snail. 
In the Aviary. 
In addition to these birds at liberty, I have 
adjoining the gazebo an aviary full of budgeri¬ 
gars, Java sparrows, and goldfinch mules and 
canaries. These last are of all colours, from 
richest orange to olive green. 
The budgerigars . are delightful little crea¬ 
tures. They hang like bats to branch and bar, 
or run. up the fine wire netting like mice, and 
seem, in spite of their gorgeous emerald green 
plumage, as hardy as house sparrows. Thev 
are said to.be spiteful in a small cage, but in 
a large aviary do their companions no harm, 
and soon become very saucy and tame. Plan¬ 
tains they delight in, and shepherd’s purse is 
a great treat to them. I feed them principallv 
on millet and canary seed, and every day throw 
to them a handful of hemp seed, which brings 
all my birds to my feet in an instant. The 
canaries are very tame and charming, and sing 
deliciously from the first dawn of spring until 
the end of June, when they begin to moult and 
require some care—not too much green food, 
but a little of cooked beef fat given quite fresh, 
which I have always found of great value. 
The song from birds in an outdoor aviary 
is delightful, and it cannot be too loud, but I 
should always recommend cage-bred birds for 
confinement, as they are quite happy, and. do 
not long for the freedom of field or grove. 
I had for many years as a feature of the 
abbey a great Persian cat. He was decidedly 
a bad mouser, and was wont to lie in a lordly 
way on cushion or sofa, but sometimes when 
the air was very mild he would lie on the wire 
netting of the aviary, and never attempted to 
do any harm to my little feathered friends. 
Good Spirits of the Garden. 
As I write, the sound of a blackbird piping on 
an apple tree against a twilight sky steals 
through my latticed chamber. His song is en- 
chantingly beautiful, and is touched with divine 
melancholy. Birds are the good spirits of a 
garden, and to banish them is to take away the 
magic of a place. 
Let us remember Karl Merz’s words “and 
accept music as a gift, a most precious gift of 
God.” “ Let us,” he writes, “ study it with 
reverence and practise it with humility and 
diligence, so that we may catch and drink in the 
spirit of love which it breathes, which is of God, 
and which leads to God.” 
Waiting for something to turn up—a characteristic pose of the Kingfisher. 
