In a few minutes the hen bird appeared. Her prevailing hue is reddish brown, while the cock is black all over, save for some large patches of dark grey on the wings. In each sex the bill and legs are reddish yellow, the bill being the more brightly coloured. The hen caught sight of me and beat a hurried retreat, without approaching the nest. The young ouzels kept very still; occasionally one of them would half raise its head. That was almost the only movement I noticed. Presently the cock appeared, with his beak full of caterpillars. He alighted on a branch a few feet from the nest, where he caught sight of me; but instead of flying off as the hen had done, he held his ground and fixed his eye on me, no doubt swearing inwardly, but no audible sound escaped him. Whenever I have watched a pair of birds feeding their young, I have almost invariably noticed that one of them is far more alarmed at my presence than the other. The ouzels proved no exception to the rule. In this case it was the cock who showed himself the bolder spirit. He remained watching me for fully ten minutes, his legs and body as immobile as those of a statue, but he occasionally turned his head to one side in order to obtain a better view of me; and I could then see, outlined against the sky, the wriggling forms of several caterpillars hanging from his bill. I hoped that he would pluck up courage to feed his youngsters before my eyes; but his heart failed him, for presently he flew to another tree a little farther away, whence he again contemplated me. After this he kept changing his position, never uttering a sound, and always retaining hold of the beakful of caterpillars. After a little the hen returned with her bill full of caterpillars, but she did not venture within 75 feet of the nest. I was not permitted to observe how long it would take the parental instinct to overcome the natural timidity of the birds. The sky suddenly became overcast, and a few minutes later I found myself enveloped in what the Scotch call a "wet mist." At certain seasons of the year rain storms come up as unexpectedly in the Himalayas as they do in the Grampians. The rain put a final end to my observations on that nest, as I had to leave Naini Tal on the following day--an event which caused more sorrow to me than to the ouzels! _THE BLACK-AND-YELLOW GROSBEAK_