I feel very lonely now since my starling is gone. I could not bear to
look upon his empty cage, his bath and playthings, so I have had them
all stowed away; but the bird will dwell in my memory for many a day.
The way in which that starling managed to insinuate itself into my heart
and entwine its affections with mine, I can never rightly tell; and it
is only now when it is gone that I really know how much it is possible
for a human creature to love a little bird. The creature was nearly
always with me, talking to me, whistling to me, or even doing mischief
in a small way, to amuse me; and to throw down my pen, straighten my
back, and have a romp with "Dick," was often the best relaxation I could
have had.
The rearing of a nest of starlings is always a very difficult task, and
I found it peculiarly so. In fact, one young starling would require
half-a-dozen servants at least to attend it. I was not master of those
starlings, not a bit of it; they were masters of me. I had to get out
of bed and stuff them with food at three o'clock every morning. They
lived in a bandbox in a closet off my bedroom. I had to get up again at
four o'clock to feed them, again at five, and again at six; in fact, I
saw more sunrises during the infancy of that nest of starlings than ever
I did before or since. By day, and all day long, I stuffed them, and at
intervals the servant relieved me of that duty. In fact, it was pretty
near all stuffing; but even then they were not satisfied, and made
several ineffectual attempts to swallow my finger as well. At length--
and how happy I felt!--they could both feed themselves and fly. This
last accomplishment, however, was anything but agreeable to me, for no
sooner did I open their door than out they would all come, one after the
other, and seat themselves on my head and shoulders, each one trying to
make more noise than all the rest and outdo his brothers in din.
I got so tired of this sort of thing at last, that one day I determined
to set them all at liberty. I accordingly hung their cage outside the
window and opened their door, and out they all flew, but back they came
into the room again, and settled on me as usual. "Then," said I, "I'm
going gardening." By the way they clung to me it was evident their
answer was: "And so are we." And so they did. And as soon as I
commenced operations with the spade they commenced operations too, by
searching for and eating every worm I turned up, evidently thinking I
was merely working for their benefit and pleasure. I got tired of this.
"O bother you all!" I cried; "I'm sick of you." I threw down my spade
in disgust; and before they could divine my intention, I had leaped the
fence and disappeared in the plantation beyond.
"Now," said I to myself, as I entered the garden that evening after my
return, and could see no signs of starlings, "I'm rid of you plagues at
last;" and I smiled with satisfaction. It was short-lived, for just at
that moment "Skraigh, skraigh, skraigh" sounded from the trees
adjoining; and before I could turn foot, my tormentors, seemingly mad
with joy, were all sitting on me as usual. Two of them died about a
week after this; and the others, being cock and hen, I resolved to keep.
Both Dick and his wife soon grew to be very fine birds. I procured them
a large roomy cage, with plenty of sand and a layer of straw in the
bottom of it, a dish or two, a bath, a drinking fountain, and always a
supply of fresh green weeds on the roof of their domicile. Besides
their usual food of soaked bread, etc, they had slugs occasionally, and
flies, and earthworms. Once a day the cage-door was thrown open, and
out they both would fly with joyful "skraigh" to enjoy the luxury of a
bath on the kitchen floor. One would have imagined that, being only
two, they would not have stood on the order of their going; but they
did, at least Dick did, for he insisted upon using the bath first, and
his wife had to wait patiently until his lordship had finished. This
was part of Dick's domestic discipline. When they were both thoroughly
wet and draggled, and everything within a radius of two yards was in the
same condition, their next move was to hop on to the fender, and flatter
and gaze pensively into the fire; and two more melancholy-looking,
ragged wretches you never saw. When they began to dry, then they began
to dress, and in a few minutes "Richard was himself again," and so was
his wife.
Starlings have their own natural song, and a strange noise they make
too. Their great faculty, however, is the gift of imitation, which they
have in a wonderful degree of perfection. The first thing that Dick
learned to imitate was the rumbling of carts and carriages on the
street, and very proud he was of the accomplishment. Then he learned to
pronounce his own name, with the prefix "Pretty," which he never
omitted, and to which he was justly entitled. Except when sitting on
their perch singing or piping, these two little pets were never tired
engineering about their cage, and everything was minutely examined.
They were perfect adepts at boring holes; by inserting the bill closed,
and opening it like a pair of scissors, lo! the thing was done. Dick's
rule of conduct was that he himself should have the first of everything,
and be allowed to examine first into everything, to have the highest
perch and all the tit-bits; in a word, to rule, king and priest, in his
own cage. I don't suppose he hated his wife, but he kept her in a state
of inglorious subjection to his royal will and pleasure. "Hezekiah" was
the name he gave his wife. I don't know why, but I am sure no one
taught him this, for he first used the name himself, and then I merely
corrected his pronunciation.
Sometimes Dick would sit himself down to sing a song; and presently his
wife would join in with a few simple notes of melody; upon which Dick
would stop singing instantly, and look round at her with indignation.
"Hezekiah! Hezekiah!" he would say, which being interpreted, clearly
meant: "Hezekiah, my dear, how can you so far forget yourself as to
presume to interrupt your lord and master, with that cracked and
quavering voice of yours?" Then he would commence anew; and Hezekiah
being so good-natured, would soon forget her scolding and again join in.
This was too much for Dick's temper; and Hezekiah was accordingly
chased round and round the cage and soundly thrashed. His conduct
altogether as a husband, I am sorry to say, was very far from
satisfactory. I have said he always retained the highest perch for
himself; but sometimes he would turn one eye downwards, and seeing
Hezekiah sitting so cosily and contentedly on her humble perch, would at
once conclude that her seat was more comfortable than his; so down he
would hop and send her off at once.
It was Dick's orders that Hezekiah should only eat at meal-times; that
meant at all times when he chose to feed, _after he was done_. But I
suppose his poor wife was often a little hungry in the interim, for she
would watch till she got Dick fairly into the middle of a song and quite
oblivions of surrounding circumstances, then she would hop down and
snatch a meal on the sly. But dire was the punishment far the deceit if
Dick found her out. Sometimes I think she used to long for a little
love and affection, and at such times she would jump up on the perch
beside her husband, and with a fond cry sidle close to him.
"Hezekiah! Hezekiah!" he would exclaim; and if she didn't take that
hint, she was soon knocked to the bottom of the cage. In fact, Dick was
a domestic tyrant, but in all other respects a dear affectionate little
pet.
One morning Dick got out of his cage by undoing the fastening, and flew
through the open window, determined to see what the world was like,
leaving Hezekiah to mourn. It was before five on a summer's morning
that he escaped; and I saw no more of him until, coming out of church
that day, the people were greatly astonished to see a bird fly down from
the steeple and alight upon my shoulder. He retained his perch all the
way home. He got so well up to opening the fastening of his cage-door
that I had to get a small spring padlock, which defied him, although he
studied it for months, and finally gave it up, as being one of those
things which no fellow could understand.
Dick soon began to talk, and before long had quite a large vocabulary of
words, which he was never tired using. As he grew very tame, he was
allowed to live either out of his cage or in it all day long as he
pleased. Often he would be out in the garden all alone for hours
together, running about catching flies, or sitting up in a tree
repeating his lessons to himself, both verbal and musical. The cat and
her kittens were his especial favourites, although he used to play with
the dogs as well, and often go to sleep on their backs. He took his
lessons with great regularity, was an arduous student, and soon learned
to pipe "Duncan Grey" and "The Sprig of Shillelah" without a single
wrong note. I used to whistle these tunes over to him, and it was quite
amusing to mark his air of rapt attention as he crouched down to listen.
When I had finished, he did not at once begin to try the tune himself,
but sat quiet and still for some time, evidently thinking it over in his
own mind. In piping it, if he forgot a part of the air, he would cry:
"Doctor, doctor!" and repeat the last note once or twice, as much as to
say: "What comes after that?" and I would finish the tune for him.
"Tse! tse! tse!" was a favourite exclamation of his, indicative of
surprise. When I played a tune on the fiddle to him, he would crouch
down with breathless attention. Sometimes when he saw me take up the
fiddle, he would go at once and peck at Hezekiah. I don't know why he
did so, unless to secure her keeping quiet. As soon as I had finished
he would say "Bravo!" with three distinct intonations of the word, thus:
"Bravo! doctor; br-r-ravo! bra-vo!"
Dick was extremely inquisitive and must see into everything. He used to
annoy the cat very much by opening out her toes, or even her nostrils,
to examine; and at times pussy used to lose patience, and pat him on the
back.
"Eh?" he would say. "What is it? You rascal!" If two people were
talking together underneath his cage, he would cock his head, lengthen
his neck, and looking down quizzingly, say: "Eh? _What_ is it? _What_
do you say?"
He frequently began a sentence with the verb, "Is," putting great
emphasis on it. "Is?" he would say musingly.
"Is what, Dick?" I would ask.
"Is," he would repeat--"Is the darling starling a pretty pet?"
"No question about it," I would answer.
He certainly made the best of his vocabulary, for he trotted out all his
nouns and all his adjectives time about in pairs, and formed a hundred
curious combinations.
"_Is_," he asked one day, "the darling doctor a rascal?"
"Just as you think," I replied.
"Tse! tse! tse! Whew! whew! whew!" said Dick; and finished off with
"Duncan Grey" and the first half of "The Sprig of Shillelah."
"Love is the soul of a nate Irishman," he had been taught to say; but it
was as frequently, "Love is the soul of a nate Irish starling;" or,
"_Is_ love the soul of a darling pretty Dick?" and so on.
One curious thing is worth noting: he never pronounced my dog's name--
Theodore Nero--once while awake; but he often startled us at night by
calling the dog in clear ringing tones--talking in his sleep. He used
to be chattering and singing without intermission all day long; and if
ever he was silent then I knew he was doing mischief; and if I went
quietly into the kitchen, I was sure to find him either tracing patterns
on a bar of soap, or examining and tearing to pieces a parcel of
newly-arrived groceries. He was very fond of wines and spirits, but
knew when he had enough. He was not permitted to come into the parlour
without his cage; but sometimes at dinner, if the door were left ajar,
he would silently enter like a little thief; when once fairly in, he
would fly on to the table, scream, and defy me. He was very fond of a
pretty child that used to come to see me. If Matty was lying on the
sofa reading, Dick would come and sing on her head; then he would go
through all the motions of washing and bathing on Matty's bonnie hair;
which was, I thought, paying her a very pretty compliment.
When the sun shone in at my study window, I used to hang Dick's cage
there, as a treat to him. Dick would remain quiet for perhaps twenty
minutes, then the stillness would feel irksome to him, and presently he
would stretch his head down towards me in a confidential sort of way,
and begin to pester me with his silly questions.
"Doctor," he would commence, "_is_ it, is it a nate Irish pet?"
"Silence, and go asleep," I would make answer. "I want to write."
"Eh?" he would say. "_What_ is it? _What_ d'ye say?"