My home is on an island where it is very warm. I fly among the tall
trees and eat fruit and insects.
See my beautiful feathers. The ladies like to wear them in their hats.
The feathers of my wife are brown, but she has no long tail feathers.
My wife thinks my plumes are very beautiful.
When we have a party, we go with our wives to a tall tree. We spread our
beautiful plumes while our wives sit and watch us.
Sometimes a man finds our tree and builds a hut among the lower
branches.
He hides in the hut and while we are spreading our feathers shoots at
us.
The arrows are not sharp. They do not draw blood.
When they dry the skins they take off the feet and wings. This is why
people used to think we had neither feet nor wings.
They also thought we lived on the dews of heaven and the honey of
flowers. This is why we are called the Birds of Paradise.
* * *
"Upon its waving feathers poised in air,
Feathers, or rather clouds of golden down,
With streamers thrown luxuriantly out
In all the wantonness of winged wealth."
[Illustration: RED BIRD OF PARADISE.]