M. Maxwell-Jackson—Notes on My Birds



277



the top of their house, globular, and with the entrance below, but so

far she only looks bored.


My old Nonpareil Bunting used to take mealworms from my hand,

but since he has found a wife and has a home of his own, treats me

rather cavalierly, but he does sing very sweetly late at night. Sometimes

as late as 11 o’clock his sweet, little trilling songs float up from the

orchard through the bedroom window ; it is very delightful.


The Orange Cheeks are sitting in a large cage in the birdroom.

One rattles the door as soon as he sees me and we go to the meal¬

worm jar together. After two I say “ No more ! ” When he picks up

the empty skin and dangles it before me until I have to relent. He

even fetches it from the back of the cage when I am too hurried to

let him out. He knows his name “ Cheeky ” as well as a dog does,

and searches my fingers and pockets for hidden dainties.


Almost the greatest pets are the Grey-backed White-eyes. They

look for insects hidden in bags, prying open my hand, sure some fat

spider lurks there. They love to bathe in the arum lily leaves and

splash the water all over me or they insist that I hold the china bathing

dish when the arums are over. They too are lovely singers, sitting

very close together ; one seems to take the treble and the other murmurs

a soft little accompaniment. Unfortunately they are both cocks. When

they came to me they were very sticky and their one idea was to

share the three feathers they possessed. Their owner had not under¬

stood them, but soon with great care tiny black pin points came out

all over them, and now they are in perfect feather.


“ Bonny,” my black-headed Gouldian, lives in the vinery and when

anyone comes to see him I tell him to show off, when he at once flies

as quickly as possible round the vinery, but never touches the glass,

comes back, and does a queer little dance on the top of his cage. Every

night he hides in the vine and I pretend to look for him and he always

rushes out in my face when at last I see him and say “ Bed now,

Bonny ”. He goes into his cage at once. He frets so when I have

to leave him that I think perhaps some day he may be gone when

I return. He is a bird child and knows a great deal. Birds are so

lovable, so interesting, and the study of them and their entrancing little

ways are such a joy. It makes one wonder how anyone can live

without pet birds.



