In all parts of Jamaica that I have visited, the Tody is a very common bird. On the summit of Bluefields mountain, about three thousand feet from the level of the sea, and particularly where the deserted provision-grounds are overgrown with a thicket, almost impenetrable, of jointer, or joint-wood (_Piper geniculatum_), it is especially abundant. Always conspicuous from its bright grass-green coat, and crimson-velvet gorget, it is still a very tame bird; yet this seems rather the tameness of indifference than of confidence; it will allow a person to approach very near, and, if disturbed, alight on another twig a few yards distant. We have often captured specimens with the insect net, and struck them down with a switch, and it is not uncommon for the little boys to creep up behind one, and actually to clap the hand over it as it sits, and thus secure it. It is a general favourite, and has received a favourite name, that of Robin Redbreast. There is little resemblance, however, between the West Indian and the European namesakes. I have never seen the Tody on the ground; but it hops about the twigs of low trees, searching for minute insects, occasionally uttering a querulous, sibilant note. But more commonly it is seen sitting patiently on a twig, with the head drawn in, the beak pointing upwards, the loose plumage puffed out, when it appears much larger than it is. It certainly has an air of stupidity when thus seen. But this abstraction is more apparent than real; if we watch it, we shall see that the odd-looking grey eyes are glancing hither and thither, and that, ever and anon, the bird sallies out upon a short feeble flight, snaps at something in the air, and returns to his twig to swallow it. It is instructive to note by how various means the wisdom of God has ordained a given end to be attained. The Swallow and the Tody live on the same prey, insects on the wing; and the short, hollow, and feeble wings of the latter, are as effectual to him, as the long and powerful pinions are to the Swallow. He has no powers to employ in pursuing insects, but he waits till they come within his circumscribed range, and no less certainly secures his meal. I have never seen the Tody eating vegetable food; but I have occasionally found in its stomach, among minute coleopterous and hymenopterous insects, a few small seeds. One, which I kept in a cage, would snatch worms from me with impudent audacity; and then beat them violently against the perch or sides of the cage to divide, before he swallowed, them.