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Sydney Porter—Notes on Birds of Fiji



the bird ? Someone had called for it late the night before and had

gone. Who was he ? Where could I find him ? Was the bird for sale,

etc. ? Yes, the bird might be for sale ; the native no one knew, but

someone thought he was a friend of “ Charlie the Doctor ”. But if

I wanted any Ngau Ka-kas (Parrots) they could bring me plenty from

the island. When ? Ah, well, perhaps next year ; maybe the one after

that if they couldn’t get young ones when the birds nested again !


Once ashore again I took a taxi, such as they were, though I think

they would compare quite favourably with the ones in London, and

went to my agent’s place. Did he know “ Charlie the Doctor ” ? No,

he didn’t, but the dusky maid of all work who overheard our con¬

versation did. There is one thing about these dusky maids, they are

not such hypocrites about their eavesdropping as their paler sisters

are. If in the course of conversation one needs information they will

always volunteer to give it so long as they overhear the conversation.

In fact our lady friend was his special pal at the moment. “ Charlie ”

was a dusky student from Ngau at the Hospital for training. We went

up there, but his friend had just left to take the Parrot to the Cable

Station for someone who had been trying to get one for a long time.

If we hurried we should catch him before he got there. We did hurry

and caught him just before he was entering the building. . . . Had he

a Parrot ? . . . No, of course he hadn’t, when it was against the law

to have one. Ah, what had he got in the box ? He was caught this

time. . . . We only wanted to buy it. . . . Oh, well, that was all right,

but he was taking it to a gentleman at the Cable Station who was giving

him £2 for it. . . . Would he sell it for £3. . . . Why, yes, of course. . . .

Natives are not troubled very much with conscience, besides the gentle¬

man at the Cable Station could get another . . . when the birds nested

again ! So “ Yea Yea Levu ” the illusive one, as we called him,

became mine.


With a sigh of relief, though soaking wet through—for by that time

the thermometer stood at 96° F.—I returned to the hotel to bathe,

change, and have my breakfast. So came into my possession one of

the rarest, strangest, and at the same time the most lovable of all the

feathered pets I have ever owned. He was a real derelict when I first got

hold of him, as in fact most of the Fijian Parrakeets are when owned by



