By Mrs. Della F. Wentworth, South Portland.
September 17th, 1908, a young Cedar Waxwing was found helpless and almost unconscious on the lawn. On examination its left wing seemed dislocated, and the left leg from the knee to the foot was bent toward the right foot. We think that the dense fog which prevailed the night before and that morning may have prevented the bird from seeing the electric wires overhead and so been the means of the accident.
After being brought into the house he revived, and little by little recovered the use of his injured leg. After five months the wing still hangs down nearly touching the perch, though, strange to say, he can spread it fully, and close it nearly to the dimensions of the well wing when closed.
Cedric, for so we have named him, can hop from perch to perch of the canary bird cage and from the floor of the cage to the perches. When I take him out of the cage on my finger, Cedric will sometimes try to fly, but succeeds only in flopping down upon the floor, often striking heavily. Although frequently trying to fly upward, he cannot use his left wing well enough to raise himself wholly from the floor.
Cedric does not appear to regard his cage as a prison, and, though he sometimes shows fear of strange inanimate objects, is not afraid of any person, and will take his favorite tidbits from any offering hand. When first we offered food we found black cherries and choke cherries were his choice, but when cherry time had passed he reluctantly accepted as a substitute dried currants such as are used in cooking. It is interesting to watch him eat a cherry or currant. Seizing it quickly in his bill and pointing his bill upward he rolls it over and over in his mouth, as a juggler revolves a ball in the air, then suddenly one quick gulp and the tiny ball has disappeared.
Cedric is very fond of live flies, and angleworms cut in half-inch sections are graciously received, but grasshoppers and beetle-like bugs are rejected. Cedric seems to like flies best when their wings are buzzing, and if he is at the farther side of the cage when a fly is offered him he will jump to the perch near the fly and oftentimes seems to catch the fly in his bill before his feet have touched the perch. He comes as near taking the fly "on the fly" as is practicable within the confines of his cage. In the absence of flies and worms, fresh beef, veal and lamb, cut in tiny fragments, are eagerly swallowed, but never in great quantity. Cedric is also fond of fruit, and will eat apple cut in bits, or scraped fine, and small pieces of orange or banana.
Our little bird protege always knows when he has eaten enough, and when his needs are satisfied he will leave the most tempting morsels and resolutely fly or hop to the opposite end of the cage and turn his back on us as if to say, "I won't even look at it lest I may be tempted"—a lesson to the featherless bipeds who pride themselves upon their superior wisdom.
When very hungry, about eighteen flies seem to be a satisfying portion, though often half as many suffice. A half dozen bits of meat the size of a green pea, and a less amount of fruit are sufficient. Of course these meals are frequent, six or eight a day, while he always has access to the dried currants which we keep in his food dish, and which are washed and soaked before putting in the dish. If the currants are too dry, he will roll them about in his bill and toss them scornfully over his shoulder. Any food which we offer him that he does not want is promptly thrown down. We tried him on cedar cones and the berries of the ground juniper, but he would have none of them. The berries of the bush honeysuckle he ate until we got him cherries, when he utterly refused the honeysuckle berries, and threw them out of his dish. Seeds and sand he will not notice, but pecks regularly at the cuttlefish in his cage. When hungry he announces it in shrill staccato whistles, but when his hunger is satisfied, he will seek an upper perch and preen his feathers, and often sing to us in a soft, sweet whistle, which seems full of love, confidence and content, though it may have a shade of vague regret.
On hearing our footsteps after a period of solitude, we are greeted with a welcoming whistle, which is very delightful. This, and the more strident tones of our Poll Parrot, convince us that "they miss us at home."
At night, though in the full glare of the electric light, Cedric is ready to settle down to quiet, and when asked if he is ready to go to bed, he will flutter all his feathers and snuggle up in a corner, when we cover the cage with a paper and bid him "good night." If offered food at night he snaps his bill at us and makes an indescribable little querulous sound in his throat and will peck at our fingers if we continue to annoy him.