“Well, the Coppy is a policeman among canaries, for he has an enormous body, often eight inches long. His coloring is lovely, and
his head most imposing. Coppy comes from crest, or copping, our Mary says. Then there are the Belgian canaries, all sharp angles. They are very sensitive birds, and their owners do not handle them, but touch them with little sticks when they wish them to step from one cage to another.”
“You’re of English descent, aren’t you?” asked Billie.
“Of mixed English and American blood. English people breed their birds for looks and coloring.”
Billie began to snicker.
I was going to be annoyed with her, then I thought, “What’s the use?” So I said quite pleasantly, “I know I’m not English in that way. I am more like a German canary. Germans don’t care how a bird looks if he sings well.”
“Is there a French canary?” inquired Billie.
“Oh, yes, a very pretty little bird with whorls of feathers on its breast and sides—now, Billie, I haven’t time to tell you all the other kinds of canaries. I will go back to what I was going to say. My father, who has seen hundreds of canaries, for he was a show bird before our Mary got him, says that if trainers will have
patience with young birds they can teach them to say certain things. Why, right in your own United States was a canary who talked.”
“Where?” asked Billie.