BIRD CHARMING.
In closing my Parisian recollections, I wish to notice what was termed "Bird Charming" in the gardens of the Tuileries. There was a silly notion amongst some people there that by the agency of animal magnetism, or by some peculiar power, the feathered tenants of the woods and shrubberies of the palace became familiar with particular persons, and the subject was specially mentioned in Le Monde Illustre. It was certainly very curious to see the sparrows flocking about a person, eating from his hand, and perching on his hat, in expectation of the crumbs which he was distributing; but it was far more extraordinary to see the woodquest (le pigeon sauvage) come from his lofty nest, alight at your feet, then perch on an adjoining rail, and pick the crumbs from between your fingers. Still the "charming" was a misconception. The birds were in a place where they felt secure; they were not shot at or frightened, but they were petted and fed, and accordingly became familiar. I had no magnetic or mesmeric influence, but I had some nice bread, and they came down and ate from my hand, and some sparrows even took morsels from between my lips. Le Monde Illustre noticed two occasions on two consecutive days, when the birds were plentifully fed, and their feeders were described in terms, of which the following is a very literal translation:—
"A young man of genteel demeanor, his head uncovered and slightly thrown back, called the birds, which came fluttering around him, and took, even from between his lips, the morsels of bread which he offered them. We wished to discover the secret of this curious proceeding, and returned at the same hour on the following day. We experienced a great disappointment; for, instead of a man young and prepossessing, we beheld 'a charmer,' old and wrinkled, no sparkle in his eye, no expression in his looks. He began by throwing into the little railed arbours some morsels, quickly devoured by the bold sparrows. Then, having gradually attracted them, he kept in his hand a further supply of bread, and from the thickets of shrubs, and from the surrounding trees, finally from all quarters of the garden, birds of various species came flocking and fluttering around him. Attaining to a degree of crescendo between him and his feathered guests, he finished by having them perched on his shoulders, and picking the crumbs from between his lips."
Who could the individual have been, thus designated as old, wrinkled, unsparkling, and inexpressive? Oh! I hope that none of my readers will suppose or suspect that such terms were applied to me. I should prefer being considered "a young man of genteel demeanor," but if the other description appears more suitable or probable, then—"What can't be cured must be endured."