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The Canary

THE canary is a justly favoured pet among boys, for it is a hardy bird that requires a very small amount of trouble. It is a pleasant, fascinating little being, full of quaint ways and sprightly attitudes, and, better than all, the cage is its native element.

Though an ardent admirer of all birds, and indeed of everything which draws the breath of life, we can never pass the cage wherein is confined a lark, a nightingale, a bullfinch, or any other of our indigenous birds, without a feeling of sadness and regret.

They are not cage birds, and never ought to be confined within the narrow limits of wood and wire. Their attitudes show their uneasiness. The mellow, exultant tone of the skylark sounds as joyously when the bird is imprisoned within a cage as when it soars high in air, its wings quivering in the breeze, its frame rejoicing in the glory of the sunbeams, and its ken surveying the wide panorama which lies spread beneath its gaze. But the gestures of the bird are full of eloquent misery, and speak volumes to him who will stop and look with his eyes as well as listen with his ears.

See how the bird flings itself upwards from the little patch of turf, which is but a shallow mockery of the greensward to which the skylark is accustomed-how it dashes itself against the roof of green baize, which represents so feebly the expanse of azure sky--and how it learns at last the lessons of experience, and stands helplessly in the bay window of the cage, its wings shivering restlessly, and its feet trampling impatiently, in lieu of the upward leap and soaring flight which it longs to undertake, but which it will never more be permitted to experience. No more will it roam through the wide expanse of air, no more will it seek for its mate, and know all the joys of nest and children. Henceforth it is but a prisoner in solitary confinement, without hope of escape, and its very individuality destroyed by surrounding circumstances. So with the generality of our cage birds. The man who would imprison the nightingale, who would limit to one spot the bird that loves to wander, and who would condemn to solitary confinement the creature which is peculiarly destined for conjugal affection, which finds expression in liquid melody, ought to be imprisoned for a month or two, just to see how he likes it. " I can't get out," is the lament uttered in silent gesture by all birds that ought to roam in wild freedom, and are imprisoned in a cage. We always wish to open the cage door, and set free the prisoner; at all events, to remove it to some spot where it might be liberated without danger to itself. But with the canary the case is different. The pretty little bird never has known wider freedom than that of the cage, and a humane bird-keeper will endow it with increased freedom by enlarging the size of its dwelling. The free use of wings has never been known to the bird, nor even to its parents; and the perch is to the canary more familiar than the bough. Release an imprisoned lark, and after the first few moments of surprise it will speed away exulting in its freedom. Release a nightingale or a thrush, and it will dart swiftly to the well-known shelter of the woods. But release a canary, and you have committed an act of positive cruelty. The poor bird knows not where to go or how to procure its food. Throughout all its little life it has been accustomed to reside within the narrow limits of its cage, and to find its food and water prepared without any expenditure of labour. Consequently, it has no idea of searching for food, but sits bewildered on a branch of some tree, and would perish with hunger simply because it does not know how to procure food. Ignorance is ever the parent of fear, and a canary-bird has been known to perish of hunger when removed to a large from a small cage, simply because it dared not fly down from the comparatively lofty perch on which it had settled when first introduced, and to which it clung with the tenacity of fear. Even the genuine British soldier can hardly be more helpless when deprived of ordinary military routine than is a canary-bird when set free and forced to fly alone into the world.

The very colour of the bird prevents it from obtaining food like others of the same tribe. All the small birds are absurdly jealous of novelty, and will mob and worry any feathered being to which they are not accustomed. You may assemble a crowd of them at any time by fixing a comb of scarlet cloth on the head of a sparrow, and glueing a few scarlet hackles into its tail. The little birds will always gather round an owl that has made its appearance in the daytime, and will scold the intruder until one would think that their throats would be hoarse. Their anger towards the owl is, however, mitigated by a wholesome dread of its beak and talons, and it may therefore be imagined that when they find a little yellow bird sitting all alone on a branch, and looking bewildered at the position in which it finds itself, they are not very likely to lose so excellent an opportunity of bullying a foreigner without danger to themselves. Successive generations of captivity have rendered the canary unfit for freedom, and therefore the young naturalist need not think himself cruel because he keeps the bird in a cage.

As to cages, the simple form which has already been described in vol. i. p. 21 of " Every Boy's Magazine " will be found amply sufficient for all purposes. The wires, however, should be closer together than is required for squirrels, so that the cat may not be able to dart her lithe paw between them and hook out the inmates. The size of the cage is of little consequence, except that you can never make it too large. If a whole room can be given up to the birds, the better they will be pleased and the brighter they will look; and, if possible, it should be lighted from above.

Wherever the birds may be placed, ventilation is of the greatest consequence. We remember being once summoned to give our opinion upon the continued illness of some canaries of which every care was taken. They had fresh water daily, were plentifully supplied with sand, and were fed with the proper seeds, and cresses, groundsel, and other green meat, and yet they drooped and moped, and never seemed well. No fault could be found with the arrangements, and therefore we looked for the cause of illness in another direction. The air of the room seemed very close when I entered it, and on examination we found that there was no outlet whatever, the chimney having been blocked up and the windows carefully shut, in order to prevent the birds from escaping. We at once recommended that a pane of glass should be removed at the top of the window, and a piece of perforated zinc inserted instead; and when this was done the birds recovered themselves, and resumed their normal aspect. The two secrets-if secrets they can be called-in bird-keeping are a good supply of fresh food and water perfect cleanliness. The former necessaries can be easily insured in a very simple manner, and should be made after the pattern of the accompanying figures. Both are founded on the same principle-namely, that of self-feeding from a reservoir. The seed-box is thus constructed. Get an old cigar-box, from which the aroma of tobacco has been removed by long airing, and take off the lid and the whole of one side; cut off two-thirds of the lid-piece, bore three holes in it, and fix it where the lid was, as at a; cut the rest of the lid in two, and fix the pieces in the box, so as to separate it into three compartments, fixing them with glue and a few very tiny brads. You should use pieces of slender brass wire for the purpose. If you left the box in this condition all the seed would run out at the round holes, and you must therefore correct that error. How this is done will be seen in fig. 2, which gives a section of the seed-box.

Cut a squared piece of wood, which will just slide into the partition, so as to make a flat flooring to it. But instead of laying it flat, place it in a sloping direction, as seen at d, so that a small space is left between the end of the floor and the back of the box. The reader will see that when the seed is poured into the partition it will drop through the open space at the back, and fall into the bottom of the box. The birds put their heads through the holes to eat the seeds, and as fast as they peck them away below, more fall from above and supply the deficiency.

In the front, and above the holes, fix a piece of glass, which is represented by b, in fig. 2, and which is seen in its place in fig. 1. The object of the glass is to permit the bird-keeper to see when there is a sufficiency of seed. The sloping top is also of glass, which is fixed by a strip of American leather, acting as a hinge. It is made of glass, and set at a sharp angle, in order to prevent the birds from perching on it, which they are certain to do if they can find the least foothold. It will be found that the best cement where-with to fix the glass is gold-size, and that a coat or two of black sealing-wax varnish makes a nice finish to the job.

The holes through which the birds feed should not be much larger than the size of their heads. The reason of this arrangement is that the canaries are apt to shell the seeds while their heads are over the vessel in which the food is contained, so that the husks fall among the seed, and it is not easy to discover when the supply is enhausted. But no diurnal bird will feed in the dark, and as the canary effectually darkens each hole by introducing its head, it will not crack and eat the seed until it has withdrawn its head and restored itself to light.

The object of the partitions is that the birds can be supplied with different kinds of seed, each of which can be restricted to its own division. The receptacles should be of different sizes-the largest for canary-seed, the next in size for rape, and the least for millet, among which a little hemp may be shaken. In front of the holes, and about three-quarters of an inch from them, should be fixed a perch, upon which the birds can sit while they feed. At the back of the seed-box are fastened a couple of stout hooks-those which milliners call "stay-hooks" answer admirably-so that the box may be hung on the wires at any convenient height. It should not be placed on the ground, because in that case the canaries will stuff all the refuse stems of the green-meat into the feeding-holes, and will probably mix sand and husks with the seeds. They are as mischievous as monkeys, and quite as ready at discovering and taking advantage of the slightest opportunities of doing something which they know is forbidden.

The "fountain" from which they drink is made on a similar principle. Fountains can be purchased at any bird-dealer's; but as it is preferable that boys should use their hands rather than drain their pockets, we offer simple directions for making a fountain as efficacious, though not quite so elegant, as those which are purchased in the shops.