Many a sheep farmer can speak to the services Jackey renders to his sheep in ridding them of their tormentors in the shape of ticks, not to speak of the friend he is to the grazier in ridding his beasts of the flies that harass and nearly madden them at times. This goes far beyond making up for the eggs of small birds, pheasants and partridges. It is on record that 400 maggots, each an inch in length, have been taken from one wretched beast, and of the Ox Bot-fly we read that the eggs having been laid in the hair on the skin of cattle and the maggots being hatched out, these eat their way through the skin, and, taking a lodging beneath it, they form large tumours known as warbles. The grub can enlarge this at will through a breathing hole left in the skin. After staying in these horrible quarters for ten or eleven months, feeding on the nastiness there, it creeps out, drops to the ground, and buries itself to pass through the pupa stage, whence it emerges a winged fly. Then there is the Sheep Bot-fly which is worse still, laying its eggs in the nostrils of sheep. The maggots force their way upwards as far as the bones of the forehead where they abide for about nine months, causing vertigo and staggers, and sometimes death. Finally they descend by the nostrils and are got rid of by the poor sheep’s sneezing. They get so to ground and bury themselves. From the pupa they pass to the winged stage so as to lay eggs in summer. Who that has seen our bird on the back of one of these tormented creatures could ever complain of “that wicked Jackdaw.” The gardener also may welcome it with justice. Earwigs and spiders, with their white bags of eggs or young, Jackey makes short work of, also snails. It is true he takes ripe fruit, peas, etc., but we may not grudge one of the very best of our bird lovers a tithe of the produce which his own good services have increased immeasurably to our benefit. That ancient poet who wrote of the cave where “Birds obscene, Of ominous note, resorted, choughs and daws.” was not so good an agriculturist as one might have expected him to be. Cowper appreciated the character of the Jackdaw to the full. He says “There is a bird who, by his coat And by the hoarseness of his note, Might be supposed a crow. A great frequenter of the church, Where, bishop-like, he finds a perch, And dormitory too. * * * * * Thrice happy bird, I too have seen Much of the vanities of men, And, sick of having seen ’em, Would cheerfully these limbs resign For such a pair of wings as thine, And such a head between ’em.” [Illustration: DOUBTFUL. THE MAGPIE.] THE MAGPIE. (_Píca rústica._)