Eird World 
Notes. 
THE BIRD WORLD. 
( i6 7) 
between them, and thus I learned many a lesson 
in natural history. I believe this gamekeeper 
was paid so much a head for the “ varmint.” I 
often went with him on his rounds, when I could 
collect eggs and birds and assist in feeding the 
y’oung Pheasants. One job he gave me to do 
was to water the grass with a watering-can with 
a rose in. He would not explain to me why 
he did that, but I found out when I began to 
keep insectivorous birds. 
When I was between twelve and thirteen years 
of age I used to hand-rear Thrushes, Black¬ 
birds, Bullfinches, Goldfinches, and Linnets. 
This was always done in my spare time, and 
before I started to school. Many a morning 
have I been up at 4 a.m. attending to my pets. 
My friend used to sell them to fanciers he knew 
in Norwich, but I am afraid I did not get my 
full share of the spoil, for I only received a few 
pence for each. 1 found that in one year I had 
made £1 from those I had hand-reared. I did 
not go in for raising any insectivorous birds until 
years after, but I have always found them to be 
just as easy to bring up as the others. 
Soon after I was thirteen or so we left the 
estate and went to Norwich, where I soon caught 
the Canary fever, as several of my school¬ 
mates’ parents were breeders. I used, as an 
excuse, to take them green food, and so got a 
look at the birds, and saw the way they were 
managed. But I was not able to keep a Canary 
there. I had to be contented with two birds 
only—a Goldfinch and Bullfinch. My Goldfinch 
was taught by a fancier to draw up his seed and 
water. This bird I kept for over ten years—a 
good ripe age, although I have kept one even 
longer. After two years’ stay in Norwich we 
came to the Midlands, to another large estate, 
and, being older and having now a considerable 
knowledge of birds, I was looked upon as an 
authority by my Grammar School mates, and 
led them on many an expedition, both for eggs 
and young. Many a scrape did we get into over 
our raids, chiefly over catching with clap-nets, 
in gardens and grounds in the neighbourhood. 
Many a net was forfeited; but as we had an 
unlimited stock of fish netting, and poles could 
easily be cut, we did not greatly mind. But 
these evening raids caused us to neglect night 
school, singing, and music lessons, and then we 
had to give an explanation and were punished, 
all nets being destroyed which were not hidden. 
Then we had to sing small for a time. The 
birds we caught were of all kinds, and were 
turned loose into a large stable, fish netting 
being placed across the door to give light. This 
stable we made quite artistic with old logs, 
branches of various trees, and shrubs. This 
place was never used for its legitimate purpose, 
and was out of the ken of the authorities. There 
were three of us in company, and we used to sell 
our birds to schoolmates and others, and our 
example caused many a boy to take up birds. 
We started with British birds, and from them 
got on to Canaries, and became in time genuine 
fanciers. 
The Moorhen. 
By MISS DYDDGU HAMILTON. 
“ Stop a minute, Bill, these Water-hens are 
always amusing,” said a passing “ working 
man” to his mate. And I, feeling a thrill of 
sympathy and understanding of his words, 
shoved along and squeezed myself a little closer 
to the wire waste-paper basket in order to make 
room for the two newcomers to the iron railings 
which surround that small, triangular green 
space known as “ the Dell.” 
I am a cockney born and bred, as were my 
parents before me, but in my nature there still 
survives much of the savage, and at times the 
longing for a wild, open-air, active life is irre¬ 
sistible. How often have I fled to some quiet 
country place, resolved to rusticate there to the 
end of my days ! But, alas ! I am like the un¬ 
fortunate amphibian who “ cannot live on land 
and dies in the water.” In town I long for the 
country, but once away I pine for the storied 
streets, the smoky sunsets, and, above all, for 
the multitudinous human voices of my native 
city. Thus it happened that on a hot, sunny day 
in August, when all my world was away on the 
moors or by the sea, I was alone, leaning over 
the railings in Hyde Park, contentedly watching 
the pretty play of the Moorhens as they chased 
the sparrows on the grass, walked like St. Peter 
upon the surface of the water (or rather, I sus¬ 
pect, upon the submerged water-weeds, but the 
appearance was the same), and danced upon the 
cool, green lawn, their wings half open to aid 
their large, bright feet in their leaps into the 
air. I think that these airy bounds were made 
in pure joyousness of heart, for the mere fun of 
the thing, but it is possible that the bird was 
after some soaring insect. At any rate, I could 
see none, though I watched the dance to the 
finish, which occurred after about fifteen 
minutes, the bird concluding it by plunging into 
the water, and there diving and splashing itself 
from head to tail in the manner adopted by 
ducks. 
The Dress of the Moorhen. 
The Moorhen belongs to an order (Fulicariae) 
which contains only five British species, includ¬ 
ing those shy and unfamiliar birds the Corn¬ 
crake and the Water-rail. It is common both 
on reedy ponds in the country and on ornamental 
lakes in town parks. It can be seen on the 
Regent’s Park water as well as on .the Serpen¬ 
tine and in Battersea Park. It is a small bird, 
only thirteen inches long, and is dressed in olive 
brown and slatey-grey, with a white bar on its 
side and a puff of snow-white feathers under its 
short tail. Its feet are bright yellowish green in 
colour, and very large for the size of the bird. 
They are not webbed at all, as one would expect 
them to be in so expert a swimmer. Its bill is 
clear yellow, and it has a scarlet plate on its 
forehead. 
