THE BIRDS. 
1ST 
over your head, nearer and nearer, looking at 
you now from one angle and now from another, 
and discussing you ceaselessly the whole time. 
The last bird to be described is the stupidest 
and at the same time the most useful of the lot. 
This is the one called the pheasant: I do not 
know his proper name. He is rather smaller 
than a hen pheasant, has a beak like the 
domestic chicken and a square tail of reddish 
brown. He sits in the trees, and never flies 
except from bough to bough. You can walk up 
to him and shoot him sitting with a rifle or 
indeed a shot gun. At dawn and dusk he 
advertises his presence by a silly cackling, like 
a farmyard hen. He is always on the spot, 
always tells you where he is, and is delicious to 
eat. You need never go hungry where pheasants 
are. 
That concludes the birds. There are many 
more which might be mentioned. I have seen 
the famous Crested Screamer, about which Mr. 
Hudson has told so much. I have seen, though 
perhaps too far off to be certain, the Jabiru, 
that great white stork which stands five feet 
high. As I sit here, thinking of that time, 
there are many more birds which come into the 
mind. I shall not describe them: for the 
reader will weary of the length of the list, and 
the ornithologist must long ago have given 
me up. 
