The method of training is merely an elaboration of what we have already given. The birds are first made perfectly tame, and then gradually encouraged to perform such little tricks as jumping over the trainer’s finger, seizing articles presented to them with their beak or claw, and other trifles. By-and-by the bird will wheel a little pasteboard wheelbarrow with the aid of a string attached to the handles, which he takes in his beak. Another bird is taught to take things in his claw by first having articles of food presented to him which he is only allowed to have when he takes them in that manner. Then some other article is offered him and when he takes that in like manner he is rewarded. When he will take an article at the command of the trainer all that is required for his performance is that the article desired should be offered him; thus the bird will take a miniature basket, gun, or any other article with equal readiness. A small lighted candle may even be used if managed carefully.
When a bird has learned to pull a string, or seize with his beak what is presented to his notice, this accomplishment may be applied to many tricks, apparently very different. He may be made to fire off a pistol by pulling a string attached to the trigger; to draw a little bucket from a diminutive well; to ring bells; and an almost unlimited number of like actions. Walking on a tight rope, or wire, and carrying a little flag is readily accomplished after the foregoing training. The bird is either lifted or guided upon the rope, and the flag then given him. Many tricks consist in the bird merely retaining a position given him, as in a little swing, cradle or at a little table. A very tame bird may be placed in an upright ring, around the margin of which are candles or jets of fire. There was a sparrow at one exhibition which performed the seemingly wonderful feat of selecting from a shuffled pack, a card previously chosen by any of the audience. A dirty pack of cards was handed to one of the company, who selected a card, and gave it back to the exhibitor, who shuffled the pack after replacing the card; he then put the pack upright in a kind of card-case, which so held them as to leave about half an inch above the brim. The Java sparrow hopped on one of the cards, and finally drew the identical one that had been drawn. The explanation became easy on examining the cards. At one end, each card had a thin layer of sweet-wafer paste; the selected card was taken by the exhibitor and placed in the pack; all the rest of the cards had the paste end downward, while the card alone was placed back in the pack with the opposite end upward. And the bird naturally looked at the end.
The greatest humbug in Vienna is a school of trained goldfinches, which a woman has taught to draw numbers from a bowl, without, however, selecting any particular one, but merely taking them hap-hazard. All the superstitious lottery ticket buyers go thither for an augury, and the owner of the finches is reaping a rich harvest.
In a work entitled Pratt’s Gleanings, for many years out of print, and now almost out of existence, we find the following description of an exhibition given by a bird tamer at a fair in the town of Cleves:
“The canary was produced, and the owner harangued him in the following manner, placing him upon his forefinger: ‘Bijou, jewel, you are now in the presence of persons of great sagacity and honor; take heed you do not disappoint the expectations they have conceived of you from the world’s report. You have got laurels; beware, then, of erring.’
“All this time the bird seemed to listen, and indeed placed himself in the true attitude of attention, by sloping his head to the ear of the man, and then distinctly nodding twice when his master left off speaking.
“‘That’s good,’ said the master, pulling off his hat to the bird. ‘Now, then, let us see if you are a canary of honor. Give us a tune.’ The canary sang.
“‘Pshaw! that’s too harsh; ’tis the note of a raven, with a hoarseness upon him; something pathetic.’ The canary whistled as if his little throat was changed to a lute.
“‘Faster,’ says the man—‘slower—very well—what a plague is this foot about, and this little head? No wonder you are out, Mr. Bijou, when you forget your time. That’s a jewel—bravo! bravo! my little man!’
“All that he was ordered or reminded of did he do to admiration. His head and foot beat time—humored the variations of both tone and movement.