to
live in a cage on a high shelf in the kitchen, well cared for, no doubt,
but, untamed and unnoticed, he led a lonely life, and was one of the
wildest birds I ever met with. For many months his flutterings, when any
one came near his cage, could not be calmed, but by always speaking to
him when entering the room, and if possible giving him a few hemp-seeds
or any little dainty, he grew to endure one's presence; then, later on,
he would begin to greet one with a little clicking note, though still
retreating to the furthest corner of the cage, and a year or two passed
by before he would take anything out of my hand, but this was attained
by offering him his one irresistible temptation, _i.e._, a lively
spider; this he would seize and hold in his beak while he hopped about
the cage, clicking loudly with delight. After a time I began to let him
out for an hour or two, first releasing him when he was moulting and
could not fly very easily. He learned to go back to his cage of his own
accord, and was rewarded by always finding some favourite morsel there.
Thus, by slow degrees, he lost all fear, and attached himself to me with
a strength of affection that expressed itself in many endearing little
ways. When called by name he would always answer with a special chirp
and look up expectantly, either to receive something or to be let out.
His song was very similar to the English nightingale, extremely liquid
and melodious, with the same "jug-jug," but more powerful and sustained.
On my return to the room after a short absence he would greet me with
delight, fluttering his outspread wings and singing his sweetest song,
looking intently at me, swaying his head from side to side, and whilst
this ecstasy of song lasted he would even refuse to notice his most
favourite food, as if he must express his joy before appetite could be
gratified. After a few years he seemed to adopt me as a kind of mate!
for as spring came round he endeavoured to construct a nest by stealing
little twigs out of the grate and flying with them to a chosen retreat
behind an ornamental scroll at the top of the looking-glass. He spent a
great deal of time fussing about this nest, which never came to
anything, but he very obligingly attended to my supposed wants by
picking up an occasional fly, or piece of sugar, and, hovering before me
on the wing, would endeavour to put it into my mouth; or, if he was in
his cage, would mince up a spider or caterpillar with wat