Birds and All Nature, Vol. 5, No. 1, January 1899 / Illustrated by Color Photography

by Various

I dress my hair high and it is Little Billee's special delight to sit on the top of my twist while I walk about my room. During the first few weeks if I put him on the floor when he had been in bed with me, he would hop back and forth on the rug in front of my bed, and beg to be taken, or he would fly straight up. I would put down my hand, he would hop upon my finger and in a second be back inside the bed. If I was sitting in a chair and put him down on the floor, he would climb right up from my feet to my neck, put his little bill in my mouth and chirp with glee. One day he was on the floor and did not see me go back to bed, but saw my wrapper over a chair (which stood about a yard from my bed). He supposed I was inside of it, but when he reached the top and found no mouth to put his bill into, he gave several very mournful peeps, but as soon as I spoke to him he chirped and it did not take him long to fly over to me. The next day when I put him down on the floor I was anxious to see what he would do. After teasing for some time for me to take him, he went to a chair, climbed up on the wrapper until he reached the top, then flew over to me. Ever after he came that way when I refused to take him.

One day I left Little Billee on the rug in front of the bed and went into my dressing room. While I was gone my mother came in and sat down. He was much frightened. Every time she spoke to him he ran under the bed, stuck his little head out from under the valance and peeped for me to come to him. When I spoke he answered, but was too much afraid to pass mother to come to me. When I came out he ran quickly to me and flew onto the back of a very low chair. I bent down and he flew up on my shoulder, chirping as loud as he could. No little child could have shown more joy in getting back to its mother. I do not suppose he remembers any other mother, and thinks all little birds have just such good mothers as I.

I have a magnificent big tiger cat named Taffy, so I thought Little Billee would be a very good name for my wee bird. It seems a very appropriate name too, as he spends a great deal of his time dressing himself and manicuring his nails. When he struts about with his head held high you can plainly see the long coat, high collar, high hat, and umbrella and can easily imagine the original Little Billee is before you. But I fear Taffy and my Little Billee will never go walking arm and arm together. Taffy has already caught Little Billee twice, but I have rescued him from the jaws of death before any harm was done. I am trying my best to get them to live contentedly together. I do not allow Little Billee to go out into the hall for fear he will fly down stairs and be caught by Taffy before anyone can reach him. Before the door into the hall is a small rug and he thinks flying over that a great feat, but when I say, "Little Billee, come right home," he returns instantly.

He goes to bed at eight o'clock in a little basket which I put on the top of some hanging shelves so there will be no danger from Taffy in the dark. Taffy sleeps on my bed every night, and very often on the outside when Little Billee is inside, and it seems like the lion and the lamb lying down together. Little Billee will usually be contented in his basket until 7 o'clock in the morning, then I take him into the bed with me where he lies quietly on my arm, neck, or palm until I get up at 9 o'clock. He never makes a peep unless I speak to him, then he chirps away like a happy child. On fine evenings I sat before an open window from 7 o'clock until 8 with Little Billee on my finger listening to the birds. When he became sleepy he tucked his little head under his wing, in a few minutes crawled into the palm of my hand and went sound asleep, ready for his basket.

When the hot wave came I went down-stairs at 7 o'clock, shutting him up in his cage.

The second night I had hard work to catch him. He ran into the hall and would not come when I called to him. The third night, when he saw me making preparations to dress, he acted like mad. He hopped all around me, put out his tiny wings, and tried to fly onto me, opened his bill, but not a sound came out. As I stood in front of my dressing table he flew to the top of his cage (which stood on the floor) to the back of a chair (which was near me), then up to my shoulder, chirping away so merrily that I knew he was saying: "Please take me with you." Of course, after that it is needless to say I took him down-stairs, and he has gone down every night since, where he remains until 8 o'clock, then is put into his basket, and I hear no more from him until morning.

On pleasant mornings I sit on the piazza and Little Billee sits on my hand or plays in my lap. When I walk on the sidewalk Little Billee goes, too, and never offers to fly away, and if the wind blows he holds on tight. Sometimes he sings and always seems interested in all that is going on about him.

Twice Little Billee has flown out of my window from fright. Once he was on my shoulder when a very small girl with a very large hat came up to him and away he flew. The next time a large bunch of ferns was brought to me. I thought he would like it and think it was a nice little tree, but I am all the tree he seems to care for. He was so frightened he flew onto a chair, and as I held up a fern out of the window he went. Both times when my maid went to look for him she could not find him until she peeped, then he answered, and she found him sitting in the grass waiting to be picked up, and he was delighted to get back to me.

Little Billee has never gone to any one except my physician, and that was when I had had him about a week. He went to him, hopped all over his shoulder, picked at his collar and tie and was very friendly. Now he will not go to even him, and I feel sure I am Trilby and his only love. Perhaps the children who read this will think Little Billee is a little angel bird and too good to live, but I will say right here he is too bad to die. Like all bright children sometimes he is very naughty. For instance, when I want to lie quietly on my bed in the day time and Little Billee does not, he will play for some time running up on the top of my pillow, then down again, hop on my arm, then under the sheet until he finds my hand; back he goes and does the same thing over again. When he gets tired of that he will sit on my chin and be very loving, kiss me in the mouth, and chirp away. When he finds I am not going to open my eyes or speak to him he will peck and bite my eyes, nose, ears, cheeks, and lips, and I assure you they are not love bites either. Then again, when he wants to sit on my shoulder and I prefer he should sit on my hand, he will fly up every time I take him down, and bite hard at my hand, and for such a little bird he has a very big bite and a very fierce look.

He loves to visit my mother in her room, and is very happy walking all over her and on her head, but she has never yet been able to touch him. He seems to have eyes all over his head, for, no matter how careful she is, he always sees the finger. He thoroughly enjoys my squeezing him in my hand, and kissing him over and over again.