Every Boy's Book: A Complete Encyclopædia of Sports and Amusements

by Unknown

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 green sward 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 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 have been 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 and 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.

Fig. 1.

Fig. 2.

Fig. 1.

Fig. 2.

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 wherewith 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 exhausted. 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.

The materials required for the purpose are very simple, and consist of some wire, both stout and fine, of an empty Florence-oil flask, a saucer, and some wood. The mode of employing them is shown by the illustration ([fig. 3]).

Fig. 3

Make three rings of stout wire, each diminishing in diameter, and arrange them as seen at b, the smallest being uppermost. Four pieces of stout wire are then firmly attached, so as to make a kind of conical stand. Were not the birds so mischievous, this would be sufficient for all purposes; but as they are sure to go and bathe in the water, they must be kept out by intermediate wires, so as to make a kind of cage, through which the birds can put their heads, but which will not permit the passage of their bodies.

Then take your oil-flask, strip off all the rushen covering, and wash the interior with strong soda until every trace of the oil is removed. Place it in the wire frame, as shown at c, and try whether it stands upright. If the wire ring should be too large, and allow of its slipping through too far, cut a round hole of the proper size in a piece of pasteboard or very thin wood, lay it on the ring, and then introduce the flask.

Make a round stool or table, such as is seen in the [illustration], and fix the turned-up ends of the wires to it with small staples. If the fountain were on the ground, the birds would fill the saucer with sand and husks; and if it were not firmly fastened, it would be knocked over by the fluttering wings of a passing bird. The stool must be wide and strong, or the whole affair will be upset.

The mode of preparing the fountain is very simple. Fill the flask with water, and stop up the mouth with a shallow cork. Place a saucer (like a) under the wire frame, insert the flask, hold its mouth in the saucer with one hand, and remove the cork with the other. The water will immediately rush into the saucer, and will half fill it, but owing to the pressure of the atmosphere no more water will descend. When, however, the birds have drunk enough to bring the level of the water below the mouth of the flask, air immediately rushes up in great bubbles, down comes a corresponding amount of water, and a fresh supply is thus afforded.

In canary-keeping much depends upon the kind of bird. We presume that a good singer will be required, as well as a strong and healthy bird. If you are not learned in canary lore, try to induce an experienced friend to choose a bird for you; but if you are not fortunate enough to possess such assistance, the following concise directions may aid you. Look at the birds for sale, and note those that stand straightest on their perches, and that hop quickly and smartly about the little apologies for cages in which they are mostly confined. Next hear them sing before deciding on your purchase, and select the one that possesses the sweetest and fullest tone. The dealer can always make the bird sing when he likes, and if any bird refuses to sing, do not buy it, however handsome it may look. If possible, procure one that possesses the nightingale’s song; you will have to pay rather heavily for it, but any one who can afford such a bird will be amply repaid by the very great superiority of the song, which is divested of that ear-piercing shrillness so unpleasant in most canaries.

When you are satisfied with the song, look the bird well over to see that it has no defects; and if you prefer the variegated breed, take care of three principal points—namely, the top of the head, technically called the “cap;” the markings on the back, called “spangles;” and the number of quill feathers in the wings and tail. The cap must be uniform and rich in colour, the spangles bold and well defined, and the quill feathers not less than eighteen in each wing and twelve in the tail. Imperfect or damaged feathers can easily be replaced by pulling them out, for their places will soon be filled with new and perfect feathers.

Some persons prefer the yellow varieties, and many are fond of the crested canaries.

We intentionally omit all mention of “fancy” canaries, for the fashion changes with them as fast as it does with tulips or dress. The fashion in canaries seldom outlives a year, and the prize bird of one year will possibly be despised in the next season. Do not, therefore, be persuaded to attempt the purchase of costly fancy canaries. They may certainly be of great value when you happen to buy them, but in a few years no one will think anything of them. Choose strong, sweet-voiced, and healthy birds, with colours that please your eye, and leave the fancy canaries to professional breeders.

As to the general management of the canary, it may be summed up by saying that it chiefly consists in judiciously letting alone. Don’t meddle with the birds more than is absolutely needed, and do not worry them with medicines whenever they seem to be unwell. As, however, all canaries are liable to certain ailments, in which a knowledge of the proper treatment is highly useful, we will just give a few plain directions.

One pest is vigorous throughout the year, and always ready to seize on the birds, and that is the “red-mite,” a parasite known to all bird-keepers.

If you find your birds restless, especially at night, and see them continually pecking among the roots of the feathers, and especially if they lose appetite, and become fretful and ill-tempered to their companions, look out for the red-mite. You can always detect the tiny but formidable foe by placing the bird in a dark room, and, after a few hours, holding a bright lamp close by the cage. If there are any mites about, you will soon see them crawling upon the perches, the wires, and even showing themselves among the feathers. They are not larger than the dot over the letter i, but their numbers are often very considerable, and the injury they inflict is great.

Let not one escape, for it may be the parent of hundreds more. When the red-mites have once obtained possession of a cage, their extirpation is a task of very great difficulty to those who do not understand the constitution of the creatures. So difficult, indeed, is the business, that many fanciers will not even attempt it, but burn the cage and buy another. The metal cages, which are now so common, are preferable to those made of wood and wire, inasmuch as they present very few spots wherein the red-mite can find a hiding-place, and for that reason metal is to be preferred to wood. Even if they have gained admission to an ordinary cage, they can be extirpated without very much trouble. We have succeeded in doing so in several instances, and think that in a fortnight any cage can be freed of its troublesome parasites.

First place the cage in the sun for a short time, so as to induce the light-hating mites to leave the bird and hide themselves in the crevices of the cage. Remove the bird, and transfer it to another cage, or even a box, and let it wait. Take the cage and examine it well, introducing a heated needle or thin blade of iron into every crevice. Next take some insect-destroying powder, force it into a hollow paper cylinder, light the paper, put it into the cage, and envelop the whole in a newspaper. Leave it there for an hour, and when you remove it you will see dozens of the red-mites, of all sizes, lying dead on the floor, or clinging half-stupefied by the fumes of the powder. Scrape them all into boiling water, and dust the whole of the cage with the powder.

By this time every mite will be dead; but there is a goodly store of eggs which will be hatched in due time, and infest the cage anew. These are destroyed by means of oil. Take a camel’s hair brush and some salad-oil, and with the brush apply the oil to every crevice. If there should be the tiniest scratch on the wood, touch it with the oil. Let oil be applied to every spot where the wires enter the wood, where they cross each other, and where the hinges of the door are fixed. Every egg will thus be destroyed, and the cage freed.

About half an hour before you restore the bird to the cage hold it in the left hand, and dust it well with the powder, blowing up the feathers, so as to get it well to the roots. Scatter some of the powder upon a piece of soft rag, and roll the bird in it, carefully binding down its legs and wings, under each of which a pinch of powder must be sprinkled. You can now attend to the head, which requires rather neat handling, as the powder is very apt to settle upon the eyes and to worry the bird. Let your feathered pet lie for half an hour in this beneficial bondage, and then replace it in the cage, scattering some powder upon the floor. The bird will shake its plumage sharply, and send a cloud of dust flying, and in a minute or two will begin to peck among the feathers and settle the plumage. The different aspect of the bird is then quite remarkable, for it exchanges the fussy, anxious, fretful moments for quiet ease, and even when it does peck among the feathers, it does so gently and deliberately, and seems quite another bird.

Moulting is a disorder to which the canary is annually subject, and which requires some little attention. Some time in the autumn all the canaries exchange the feathers which have endured the wear and tear of a twelvemonth for a completely new suit. Feathers are subject to damage in many ways, and just before the moult takes place the bird is quite ragged and disreputable in dress. Meanwhile the germs of new feathers have been growing in the sockets which held the old suit, and in the course of a few weeks all the feathers are shed and replaced by others. It may easily be imagined that such an operation is not achieved without much physical disturbance, and it is accordingly found that all birds are more or less indisposed during the time of the moult.

Scarcely any two birds are affected in precisely the same manner, and the “moulting sickness” tells with especial severity upon the young. Quiet and nourishing food are the best remedies for the curious mixture of languor and fever which is always visible among the birds; and the most accomplished canary-breeders are in the habit of giving the yolk of hard-boiled eggs, and even a little raw meat, scraped and cut very fine. Sometimes, in their desire for animal food, the birds pluck the newly-formed feathers from the bodies of their companions, and nibble the still vascular and bleeding ends. Wine is recommended by some fanciers, but we cannot agree with them. The moult is a natural ailment, and the remedies which are best calculated to modify its effects upon the health are those to which the natural instincts of the birds would lead them.

Frequently the claws and bill of the canary become overgrown, and produce very unpleasant results; the latter causing much difficulty in taking food, and the former entangling the foot in the wires of the cage. The remedy in either case is the same. Take the bird in the left hand, and hold it against the light; the overgrown portions of the claws will then be easily distinguished, inasmuch as a delicate scarlet line runs along the centre of each claw and nearly reaches its extremity. Taking this line as your guide, you carefully cut off the overgrown parts with a sharp pair of scissors, and cause thereby immediate relief to your feathered patient. The bill must be cut in the same way, but requires a little more care and some neatness in trimming. No pain is given to the bird when the operation is rightly conducted, for neither bill nor claw possesses sensation.

Dysentery and diarrhœa are very common among cage birds, and should be treated, the former with a drop or two of castor-oil, and the latter with a lump of chalk to peck at, and a rusty nail in the water.

Sometimes the bird loses the feathers of the head and neck, and presents a most ungainly appearance. In such cases rub the head with almond-oil, and feed the bird for a few days on a mixture of lettuce, scalded bread, olive-oil, and a sprinkling of maw seed. Health will soon return, and at the next moult the bird will recover its lost plumage.

Broken legs are of frequent occurrence, and mostly happen by the bird entangling itself in the wires and then struggling to free itself. Overgrown claws are a fertile cause of this misfortune. Do not try to bandage or in any way to meddle with the leg; but put the bird in a separate cage, take away the perches, place the food and water within reach, so that the patient may partake of them without needing to stand, and wait until the limb is healed. The bones unite very rapidly, and in a week or ten days the limb will be nearly as strong as before the accident, and will betray no sign of the recent misfortune.

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