THE FINCH-OWNERS’ MEETING-PLACE AND HEADQUARTERS.
From a Photograph.
Setting out on my bicycle in the early dawn of a stormy morning, I was borne with the wind through one sleeping hamlet after another. The pulse of life had scarcely begun to stir; but when I reached my destination, as the clock struck six, and wended my way to the street with the well-nigh unpronounceable name where the great event was to take place, all was alive and bustling. Peasants of both sexes, representing every stage from tender childhood to decrepit old age, were strolling up and down or standing about in groups eagerly discussing the all-absorbing event which was about to commence—the contest of the blind finches.
ONE OF THE CAGES, SHOWING THE DOUBLE FRONT TO PROTECT THE LITTLE OCCUPANT FROM CATS.
From a Photograph.
At intervals men and boys clattered along in sabots, or proceeded with shuffling gait in gorgeously-coloured carpet slippers, bearing mysterious wooden boxes under their arms. I inquired into the nature of their burdens, and discovered that they contained cages which housed the chaffinches destined to take part in the competition. These cases, varying in size, bore little similarity to each other either in design or workmanship, for while some were roughly put together without any attempt at decoration, others, though evidently the work of the amateur, revealed traces of minute care and originality of construction, one being adorned with a rudely carved representation of the little imprisoned inmate, a work of art presumably executed by the owner himself or some village genius. A few of the boxes were really elaborate constructions, one in particular being made of highly-polished mahogany, on which figured a bird with outstretched wings, executed in relief ironwork.
THE BANNER OF A FINCH-OWNERS CLUB.
From a Photograph.
ONE OF THE JUDGES IN POSITION, READY TO SCORE THE NUMBER OF “TRILLS” EMITTED BY THE BIRD IN FRONT—NOTICE THE CURIOUS TALLY-STICK USED IN SCORING.
From a Photograph.
There was one spot in particular towards which the future competitors seemed to be attracted, a rustic inn, over whose portals the flag of the local finch-owners’ club waved lustily in the vigorous breeze, and the cheery greeting, “Vinkeniers Welkom,” attracted the attention of the passers-by. It was here that the organizers and competitors met for the purpose of settling all matters pertaining to the bird-singing contest. Even at 6 a.m. beer has irresistible fascination for the true native of Flanders, and it goes without saying that every entry for the competition called forth a request for at least one “bock” on the part of the competing bird-owner. Others, who came as mere spectators, followed his example, and soon the stream of conviviality flowed freely.