Little 
Bird Friends. 
THE BIRD WORLD. 
(164) 
bass and began weaving, the other end 
lying across the entrance to “ Toff’s ” 
nest; but “Nap” did not know this. 
“ Hello ! ” cried little “ Toff,” “ what is 
this? this will be nice for us, ‘Opal.’” 
So he seized the end and began pulling 
in with a will. 
Perfectly Serious. 
“ Nap ” soon felt a strain on the piece 
he was working with. He stared at it. 
“ What is the matter,” he exclaimed, 
“ is the thing alive ? ” Then he tugged 
harder, and being the stronger, soon 
pulled it right away from “Toff.” 
“ Well, this is queer,” said little 
“ Toff,” and out popped his saucy head 
round the side of the nest to see who had 
done it. “ Nap ” was too busy to notice 
him, and I don’t think either of them 
could have explained the mystery. 
They were both quite serious, and I was 
the only amused party. 
“Nap” is Fond of Posing. 
Another time I felt quite sure that 
“ Nap ” was just showing off to me, and' 
being funny on purpose to make me 
laugh. I was sitting on a low chair 
quite close to the cage. You know the 
plantain stalks that some birds are so 
fond of? Evidently they are unknown 
to foreign birds. One day I fixed a 
piece in the wires near the floor of the 
cage. Of course “ Nap ” was the first 
to catch sight of it, and while still up 
in the branches half-twisted his head off 
in his ridiculous gestures of fright and 
curiosity. All put on, I think, for 
my benefit! Then he hopped down 
very, very slowly till at last he was at 
the bottom of the cage, and approached 
the plantain with his legs straight and 
his head raised. When within about 
six inches of it he flew away shrieking, 
“Is it alive? did it move?” apparently 
terrified. He kept one eye on me, and 
came cautiously down again. He ven¬ 
tured quite close this time, and carefully 
observed the top of the stalk, then he 
turned his head upside down and looked 
underneath it. Apparently satisfied, he 
pecked at it, then with another shriek 
flew up again, but laughing this time, I 
am sure. 
Song or Whistle. Which? 
But I must not forget to tell you about 
his song, or rather his voice; it can 
scarcely be called a song. It begins 
with a few rather sweet whistles, then 
he suddenly shuts his beak, and the 
song (?) changes to a deep sound like 
a large angry bee might make, 
“ B-zzzzh.” That describes it best. 
Sometimes it goes on for a long time. 
He raises the feathers on the top of his 
head into a crest when he says it. Very 
often he seems to be furiously angry, he 
straightens his legs, bends his head down 
so that his beak almost touches his 
breast, and slowly, advances towards 
another bird, growling out this terrible 
noise, looking as if he were going to 
use his forehead as a battering ram. 
There is no one brave enough to show 
fight. But, indeed, I think it is always 
more than half play, he never does any 
harm. He certainly* keeps the cage 
alive with his merry pranks. 
“ Nap ” comes from South Africa, 
from the land of the Boer War. We 
have heard much of this part of the 
world during the last few years, and 
much that was very sad and terrible, 
so I will not attempt to describe it now. 
(To he continued.) 
The Lost Falcon. 
A lady cried, “ My Falcon’s taken flight 
To lands far off from here. 
The bird I reared so long is now held 
tight 
By stranger hands, I fear. 
Too slack I left the jesses 
That kept him safe and true. 
Now, like a nettle, vain remorse dis¬ 
tresses 
My heart and burns it through. 
And yet I hope he will return anon, 
Though now so far he roams, 
When his plumes break and when his 
bells are gone, 
And winter’s menace comes; 
When hunting time is over 
And all the hedge is bare, 
He’ll wing his way back to his corn 
and cover 
And fly no farther there.” 
Heinrich von Muglin. 
