The Marquess of Tavistock—Breeding the Yellow-bellied Parrakeet 263


often straying miles from home and not putting in an appearance for

weeks at a time, for he appeared well able to support himself even in

weather when our native birds were starving. In spring, however,

he never failed to return, not, sad to say, to revisit his deserted spouse,

but with the object of killing a certain Yellow-rumped Parrakeet.

Why he detested this particular bird more than any other cock Broadtail

in the collection and why he only wanted to see him dead in May (for

he ignored him at other times) was known only to himself, but by using

the object of his dislike as a decoy his recapture was easy and he then

spent a bored and idle summer with his unappreciated lady. Finally

his wandering habits proved his downfall. He was shot by a farmer

in mistake for a Hawk.


His successor was the young bird already referred to as having been

bred by our French member. Lovely bird as he was when in adult

plumage, his domestic virtues were nil. He never tried to be even

passably civil to the hen. When the nest-box was put in he was

interested enough, but if she ever came to look at it, too, instead of

making way for her politely as every well-mannered cock Broadtail

should do, he drove her away and went on looking at it himself. One

day he attacked her savagely and pulled out a lot of her feathers, so

that when they were reunited his wing had to be cut. That year the

hen came into breeding condition late and laid four eggs in July, but

the cock had started to moult and took not the slightest interest in the

proceedings. After two years I got tired of him and decided to replace

him by a bird whose manners left less to be desired. It was arranged

that he should be sent abroad but he had other intentions, for he

managed to make his escape while being boxed and, unless someone

has shot him, he is probably wandering about England to this day !


Inquiries for another cock for a time proved unsuccessful, but

when visiting the last Palace Show my eye fell on a nice Yellow-belly

who was looking most profoundly bored with that trying ordeal, and

I decided, if possible, that he should be mine. Negotiations with his

owner proving successful, in due course he arrived and, unlike his

predecessors, he seemed to think that a nice home was something to be

thankful for and even if the wife was a bit on the plain side, probably

the poor soul couldn’t help her looks and was worth giving a trial to,



