Psittacus farinosus. Synonyms: Ohrysotis farinosa, Bdd.; C. pulverulentus, Swns.;

C. farinosus, Gr.; Amazona pulverulenta, Lss.; A. farinosa, Schlg.

German: Der bepvderte Amazonenpapagei, oder die Mülleramazone, Rss.

French: Meunier de Cayenne, Bff.; Perroquet meunier, Lvllt.

THIS is perhaps the largest of the Amazons, measuring nearly twenty inches in length, of which the tail only occupies about five inches. It is not a handsome bird, and its capacity for uttering the most ear-piercing shrieks imaginable, must be taken as a set-off against its docility and powers of imitation.

It learns to speak clearly and well, and is extremely gentle as a rule; but the strong beak is often exercised upon the furniture, and if it should happen to bite anyone, either in anger or in fear, the wound inflicted is not a light one.

It is a native of Brazil, Guiana, and the northern parts of South America generally, but does not extend into the central parts of the dual continent; and is decidedly most numerous in Guiana.

Not very much is known of the habits of this species in its wild state; but under this heading, Burmeister gives the following brief account, which we extract from Dr. Karl Buss's Die Papageien: - "It is found exclusively in the densest forests, to which it resorts in flocks composed of moderate numbers. In the neighbourhood of Rio and Pamba I saw many of these birds caged and tame."

Latham was the first English writer who described this Parrot, which was scientifically named by Boddaert - Dr. Russ says "in 1873"; but this evidently is an error, as the Mealy Amazon was an inhabitant of the London Zoological Gardens ten years before that date; a specimen having been "deposited" on the 18th. of March, 1863, and two more in 1873, which last may possibly have been those to which the German doctor alludes.

As might have been expected from the character we have unwillingly been compelled to give of this bird, it is not in much request with amateurs; and specimens may occasionally be picked up for a few shillings, though the market price is quoted at from thirty to fifty shillings a piece, and occasionally more. Recently we were asked £3 for a Mealy, that was evidently suffering from lung disease, for its feathers were ruffled, it breathed with apparent difficulty, and gaped every now and then. Needless to say we "declined with thanks", although we were, at the time, anxious to secure a bird of this species.

A glance at the accompanying plate will convey to the reader an excellent idea of the bird's appearance, which may, however, be thus briefly described: - Size of a Raven, but standing on shorter legs, looks less; general colour dark grass green; forehead, cheeks, and under parts yellowish green; crown of the head yellow, changing into dusky violet, and on the nape to blackish green; back and sides greyish green; wings dark green, with black, deep blue, and crimson markings. The tail is dark green, with yellowish and blue shadings. The irides are brown, and the beak horn-colour. The whole plumage is plentifully besprinkled with a pearly white powder, which gives the bird a very strange appearance, and has originated the specific designations of farinosus and pulverulentus, that have been bestowed upon it; as well as its English, German, and French trivial names of "mealy", "bepuderte", and "poudré", which all have the same signification.

It is certainly curious, and, when heard for the first time, decidedly startling, to find a bird talking with the voice of a man, and repeating words and phrases with more or less accuracy and distinctness; but after all the bird's own natural language, inarticulate as it may appear to us unfeathered bipeds, is really much more extraordinary. True it may be elliptical, and perhaps incomplete, that is from our point of view; but in order to obtain the best idea of it that we can we should put ourselves in the bird's place, and not the bird in ours. This is a difficult matter no doubt; but if we disabuse our minds of all preconceived notions, it is much easier, than might at first sight appear, to obtain a knowledge, limited in extent it is true, of what two birds of the same species are conversing about.

Parrots perhaps are not the best subjects to choose for this novel study, for domesticity has caused them, to a certain extent, to forget their native language, or at least has rendered them more or less inexpert in its use; but even tame Parrots can talk to each other, and will do so now and then, especially when no human being is by; and it is astonishing what a variety of intonation, even of syllabic sounds, can be detected in their utterances by an attentive listener.

These sounds and utterances, no less than the actions of the birds are often ludicrously misrepresented by writers; for example, speaking of the Toucans, a well-known author says, "Grotesque as is their appearance, they have a great hatred of birds which they think to be uglier than themselves, and will surround and mob an unfortunate Owl that by chance has got into the daylight; with as much zest as is displayed by our Crows and Magpies at home under similar circumstances. While engaged in this amusement they get round the poor bird in a circle, and shout at him so, that wherever he turns he sees nothing but great snapping bills, a number of tails bobbing regularly up and down, and threatening gestures in every direction."

The above extract is very funny no doubt, but is it true? We do not mean is it true that the Toucans will mob an Owl, for we have no doubt that in common with all other feathered denizens of the woods and fields, they have a horror of the midnight marauder that comes slyly up on noiseless pinions, and pounces on them in the dark, when they are unable to resist his insidious attack; but that they surround him with threatening gestures, "because he is uglier than themselves" is an absurd statement that should not have been made by a naturalist of repute. In the first place are the Toucans; are any creatures for that matter, "ugly" or "grotesque" in their own eyes, or in those of the Beneficent Being who made them, and fixed the bounds of their habitation? Certainly not; we cannot for a moment believe or accept as correct so rash an assertion.

Similarly one may read in other works on natural history that some bird utters "a sobbing sound of deep pain", when really it is the creature's natural note, and is expressive of a variety of sentiments which the writer in question has utterly failed to discriminate; or another, speaking of the Nightingale, will call it "the bird forlorn", and take its song to be "passing sad", when it is exactly the reverse.

A more truthful, because more thoughtful and observant, writer says upon the same subject in a recent essay: "There is no more miserable captive, in a small way, than the 'call-bird' employed by bird-catchers. He beats himself against the bars of his prison, and, at sight of his free brethren overhead, utters pitiable cries, which an ' ingenious naturalist' has thus interpreted: 'Call-birds manifest a most malicious joy in bringing the wild ones into the same state of captivity. Their sight and hearing infinitely excel those of the bird-catcher. The instant the wild birds are perceived, notice is given by one of the call-birds, after which follows the same tumultuous ecstasy of joy.' This may be man's view of the situation; but what is the bird's? Dejected with confinement, it is placed in a small cage upon the borders of a breezy down, or swelling upland. The thistle seed is wafted past his prison bars - cloud, sun, and gale play upon it. The passionate desire for freedom swells the breast of the unhappy captive, which at this moment hears the joyous twittering of an approaching flight. What wonder that it sends forth a piercing note of appeal, or that its agitation attracts the attention of its fellows on the wing?"

What wonder indeed? but as long as the actions and voices of birds, whether they be Redpolls, Linnets, or Mealy Amazons, are considered solely from the human point of view; so long will they be liable to more or less ludicrous misrepresentation.

The same writer, whose true interpretation of the " call-birds'" notes we have just quoted, further remarks in another place, "Superstitions regarding the articulate speech of birds were once widely prevalent among the Oriental nations, and were fully shared by the aborigines of the New World. From this stock has sprung an entirely false estimate of the so-called powers of speech supposed to be possessed by certain birds above others. Imitative speech is not speech at all, but mere jargon caught up and reproduced by some fowls gifted with the faculty of mimicry. These over-praised orators never really talk less than when giving solemn utterance to some phrase or trick of human speech; their efforts have import only to the human ear. They are purely mechanical and accidental, and afford no basis of understanding among the birds themselves."

This conclusion, nevertheless, appears to us to be a little overstrained; the possession of human speech once, we know, saved the life of a tame Piping Crow that had wandered from its master's house into a newly ploughed field, where a number of its congeners were engaged in picking up the various grubs that had been dislodged from their accustomed haunts; and as soon as these wild Crows saw the tame one, they surrounded and attacked it, when the latter began to volubly repeat its whole not very choice repertory of "colonial" phrases, which had the effect of putting its adversaries to immediate flight; whereupon the tame bird returned in triumph to the farmhouse, where it began to pipe lustily the tune of "There's nae guid luck aboot the house", which, under the circumstances, was perhaps the most unsuitable melody it could have selected.

From oar point of view the actions of birds are no less ridiculous than their mode of expressing themselves in certain contingencies; for example, two Mealy Amazons, one of which is combing the other's head, or feeding it with half-digested food disgorged for the purpose, are at once absurd and disgusting; but if we put ourselves out of the question for the moment, and consider the same actions from the Parrot's point of view, we shall certainly arrive at another and a truer interpretation. The head combing is a delicate attention, equivalent to the human osculatory salute, which possibly a Parrot may consider ridiculous enough; while the feeding, to our notions repulsive, is the greatest mark of affection one bird can bestow upon another.

This reminds us of a case that recently came under our notice: a lady correspondent wrote complaining of her Parrot; we forget the species, but let us say it was a Mealy Amazon, a most charming bird, and hitherto the delight of her life, so tame, so affectionate, and so clever! but alas! it had within the last few weeks acquired the most horribly disgusting habit! (there were three or four notes of exclamation in the original) every time she went near the cage the wretched bird made itself sick, and brought up great mouthfuls of half-digested food. What could be the cause of, and what could be done to cure it of, such an abominable habit?

In vain we assured the lady that the poor bird was not only unconscious of offence, but was actually offering to its ungrateful mistress the very strongest proof of its affection for her, that it was capable of giving. She would not listen to our explanation, and either sold or gave away the bird, which she declared acted as she had described on purpose to annoy her; and to this day she believes that her interpretation of the poor affectionate Parrot's conduct is the correct one.

In concluding his account of the Mealy Amazon, Dr. Karl Russ says: "Its mode of life resembles on the whole that of the other Amazons. It is much hunted, is easily tamed and trained, and learns to speak well; nevertheless, on account of its screaming, it is not so highly esteemed as its fellows previously described."

We may here remark that it is rather on account of the injury done to the various crops that this bird is persecuted by the inhabitants, than for the sake of making a few reals by selling it into captivity.

The personal appearance of this large Parrot is not in its favour, for it looks as if it had been rooting in a bag of flour, and wanted brushing; and we never see a Mealy Amazon without an inclination to give it a good shaking; which, by the bye, would not be a very judicious thing to do, considering the formidable bill of the creature, and the use to which it would doubtless put it in such a contingency.

Putting, however, the be-powdered condition of the bird out of the question, the Mealy Amazon is not so undesirable an acquisition as might from what we have said about it be considered. It screams, no doubt, and screams loudly too, but it is docile, and learns to talk fairly well; then its mere size is a recommendation, and its great hardiness is another. There is no doubt it could be readily acclimatised in our woods, were it not for gamekeepers, and sporting farmers, where invariably shoot every strange bird they come across, even when they are perfectly aware that it belongs to a next-door neighbour. On the other hand, the wood-cutting propensity of this creature would make it an undesirable one to turn adrift in a plantation, where, with nothing else to do, it would beguile the time by lopping off the terminal shoot; of the trees; being particularly fond of mutilating pines and firs.

Like most of its congeners, the Mealy Amazon, in its native wilds burrows in the decayed branches or trunks of trees, and lays its eggs and brings up its young in no other situation. According to Prince von Wied, the latter are greyish blue on the top of the head; but Dr Buss considers that this appearance is not constant, and has seen other with red and yellow in the same position. The powder, however, with which these birds, old and young, are so plentifully besprinkled, masks their colours so effectually, that unless they could be brushed, it would be extremely difficult to say they were anything but greenish grey.

In stuffed specimens, of course, the natural colouring is more perceptible, but when the bird is alive, the curious secretion to which this Amazon owes its trivial name, covers all; and, together with the large size of the bird, makes it impossible to mistake this species for any other.