File:Birds and nature (1905) (14751150482).jpg

Identifier: birdsnature11905chic (find matches)
Title: Birds and nature
Year: 1900 (1900s)
Authors:
Subjects: Birds Natural history
Publisher: Chicago, Ill. : A.W. Mumford, Publisher
Contributing Library: Smithsonian Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Biodiversity Heritage Library

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k anddoes not gather it with the feet, as domany other species of parrots. It is saidthat no nest is built by this species, butthat the eggs are laid in holes of treesin which no lining is used. The males song is a sort of warblewhich is not entirely free from melody,and is uttered quite constantly duringthe day. In many localities this Parra-keet is a popular cage species and itbreeds freely while so confined. Whilereadily tamed, it is said that this littleParrakeet is always apt to bite severely:while it is also an undesirable inhabitantof an aviary, on account of its propensityto attack and disable smaller birds. At times these little birds becomegreatly attached tO those who care forthem. A gentleman who carried one ofthese Parrakeets from Australia to Eng-land, says the bird suflfered greatly fromthe cold and change of climate. It wasprotected by a kind-hearted weather-beaten sailor, who kept it warm andcomfortable in his bosom. It was nottransported in a cage, but roamed at will
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AUSTRALIAN GRASS PARRAKEET. (Meiopsittacus undulatus).Life-size. COPYRIGHT 1900, BY A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO about the room, enjoying greatly at times, standing on his bald head. He always a ride on a cats back. At meals he announced his masters coming by a perched upon his masters shoulder, pick- shrill call, and no matter what the hour ing the bits he liked from a plate set of night, never failed to utter a note of before him. If the weather was cold or welcome, although apparently asleep with chilly, he would pull himself up by his his head tucked under his wing,masters whiskers and warm his feet bv THE BIRDS OF AMERICA. I shall not greet your birds at home, Their songs are not for me;Among your woods I may not roam. Your flowers I may not see. And yet I find them in your books,— Bird, blossom, wood and field.And sunny spots and sheltered nooks, Before my eyes revealed. Your meadow-larks melodiously Sweet o the year proclaim,Your yellow-throat cries witchery, Bob-w^hite repeats his

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