My dear Fox

My correspondence has cost you a deal of trouble; though this note will not. I found yours on my return home on Saturday after a week’s work in London.¹

Whilst there I saw Yarrell, who told me he had carefully examined all points in Call Duck & did not feel any doubt about its being specifically identical,² & that it had crossed freely with common varieties in St. James’ Park.³ I sh^d. therefore be very glad for a 7 days duckling, & for one of the old birds sh^d. one ever die a natural death. Yarrell told me that Sabine⁴ had collected 40 vars. of the common Duck!!

I am rather low today about all my experiments,—everything has been going wrong—the fan-tails have picked the feathers out of the Pouters in their Journey home—the fish at the Zoological Gardens after eating seeds would spit them all out again—⁵ Seeds will sink in salt-water—all nature is perverse & will not do as I wish it, & just at present I wish I had the old Barnacles to work at & nothing new.—

Well to return to business, nobody, I am sure could fix better for me, than you, the characteristic age of little chickens: with respect to skeletons I have feared it w^d be impossible to make them; but I suppose I shall be able to measure limbs &c by feeling the joints. What you say about old Cocks just confirms what I thought; & I will make my skeltons of old cocks.— Sh^d. an old wild Turkey ever die please remember me: I do not care for Baby turkey. Nor for a mastiff. Very many thanks for your offer.— I have puppies of Bull-dogs & Greyhound in salt.⁶ —& I have had Carthorse & Race Horse young colts carefully measured.— Whether I shall do any good I doubt: I am getting out of my depth.—

Most truly yours. | C. Darwin