The Starlings exhibit some other very peculiar ways. Before descending to feed they will sit upon neighbouring trees in an attitude of pensive watchfulness—one irresistibly reminding one of an old man leaning his head upon one side and resting it upon his hand. Their peculiar waddling walk or run and extreme liveliness of manner are well known; but when all the food is gone, and they return for a short season to their trees, they will often resume their philosophic or contemplative attitude—very soon, however, to disappear to “other fields and pastures new,” or in plain English, to some neighbouring and equally hospitable garden. And their capacity for food appears to be very great. The _kinds of food_ which I have thrown to my feathered friends have been bread and large crusts, oats, the refuse of meals, scraps of meat, bones of fish or fowls, herring skins, cheese rinds, portions of fat; and I have found that the animal matters are very greedily seized upon by nearly all of them, scarcely excepting the Sparrows. And it is remarkable what large bones of fish or fowl are rapidly and entirely disposed of; whilst still larger bones from a joint are picked and cleaned to the last available particle. Like bird-cannibals that they are, I observed that some bones from my Christmas Turkey thrown out to them, appeared to be very specially and particularly relished by them. When very hungry, not only will Sparrows eat some kinds of animal food; but Robins, Starlings, and Jackdaws will all eat bread crumbs and bread crusts. It is sad to think what a mixed world this is even for birds; and that even such a happy and interesting town gathering as I have described is not without its drawback, and this a very serious one. Whilst the birds are making the most of their opportunities, gratifying their natural tastes, and exhibiting their peculiarities, a Nemesis, or vengeful fate, is constantly hanging over them, ever ready to overtake them in case of any relaxation of their habitual watchfulness, in the case of our own or neighbours’ Cats. For these fat and feline creatures seem to be on the watch for their own good Christmas bird cheer; and with crouching, stealthy steps, and wagging tails, they actually do now and again succeed in stealing upon their unsuspecting victims, and in illustrating the inexorable law, as to food, of animal-feeding creatures. It is pitiful to see a Sparrow or a Blackbird thus hopelessly engaged in the clutches of a Cat; and it is a sad interruption or ending of the scene of joy, if not always of harmony, I have just described. Our own pet Cat, though over fed, cannot resist the temptation of thus stealing upon these birds when the chance occurs, and its excited movements when watching them through a window, but unable to get out, are a study in themselves.