Before I spoke to him he had been swelling out his throat, singing with all his might, “Cheery, deary, wearie, dearie,” supposedly, to enliven Touzle on her woven nest near him.
After I spoke to him, he put his crested head on one side, as if to think over what I had said and remarked, “Hi, hi; that’s true!” then went off to play with his mirror, singing in a lower key, and tapping it briskly with his beak.
My birds all follow his example of singing before it is really light, then, getting their breakfast later on, when they can see well.
Red-top amused my married sister one day by falling into a trap we set for him. I wanted to catch him for some reason or other, and put some of his favorite dishes into a large cage and tied a string to the door.
He watched me cunningly, and would not go in.
“Please take the string,” I said to my sister; “I believe he will go in for you.”
I left him, and she said after I had gone he threw her a careless glance, as if to say, “You don’t count, you never catch us,” and immediately walked into the cage, whereupon she laughed at him and pulled the string.
All my cardinals have been very strong birds, and never for one instant lose their spirit. Whenever I catch one—Virginian or Brazilian—they fight me, bite my fingers, and fall into a rage of resentment without terror. They know I won’t hurt them, but they want me to know that they are birds of too high lineage to be handled.
One day Red-top got one leg so tangled in a long bit of twine he was weaving into his nest that he could not move. I had to call my sister to help me cut him free, and he fought us all the time we were engaged in our amiable task.
Another day he got whitewash in his eyes. That too made him angry, and I telephoned to our physician, who told me to wash his eyes with warm water, then put in sweet-oil with a medicine-dropper. The next day I bathed them with boracic acid, and in a short time he was quite well.