"_Is_ it sugar--snails--sugar, snails, and brandy?" Then, "Doctor,
doctor!"
"Well, Dickie, what is it now?" I would answer.
"Doctor--whew." That meant I was to whistle to him.
"Shan't," I would say sulkily.
"Tse! tse! tse!" Dickie would say, and continue, "Doctor, will you go
a-clinking?" I never could resist that. Going a-clinking meant going
fly-hawking. Dick always called a fly a clink; and this invitation I
would receive a dozen times a day, and seldom refused. I would open the
cage-door, and Dick would perch himself on my finger, and I would carry
him round the room, holding him up to the flies on the picture-frames.
And he never missed one.
Once Dick fell into a bucket of water, and called lustily for the
"doctor;" and I was only just in time to save him from a watery grave.
When I got him out, he did not speak a word until he had gone to the
fire and opened his wings and feathers out to dry, then he said: "Bravo!
B-r-ravo" several times, and went forthwith and attacked Hezekiah.
Dick had a little travelling cage, for he often had to go with me by
train; and no sooner did the train start than Dick used to commence to
talk and whistle, very much to the astonishment of the passengers, for
the bird was up in the umbrella rack. Everybody was at once made aware
of both my profession and character, for the jolting of the carriage not
pleasing him, he used always to prelude his performance with, "Doctor,
doctor, you r-r-rascal. What _is_ it, eh?" As Dick got older, I am
sorry, as his biographer, to be compelled to say he grew more and more
unkind to his wife--attacked her regularly every morning and the last
thing at night, and half-starred her besides. Poor Hezekiah! She could
do nothing in the world to please him. Sometimes, now, she used to peck
him back again; she was driven to it. I was sorry for Hezekiah, and
determined to play pretty Dick a little trick. So one day, when he had
been bullying her worse than ever, I took Hezekiah out of the cage, and
fastened a small pin to her bill, so as to protrude just a very little
way, and returned her. Dick walked up to her at once. "What," he
wanted to know, "did she mean by going on shore without leave?"
Hezekiah didn't answer, and accordingly received a dig in the back, then
another, then a third; and then Hezekiah turned, and let him have one
sharp attack. It was very amusing to see how Dick jumped, and his look
of astonishment as he said: "Eh? _What_ d'ye say? Hezekiah!
Hezekiah!"
Hezekiah followed up her advantage. It was quite a new sensation for
her to have the upper hand, and so she courageously chased him round and
round the cage, until I opened the door and let Dick out.
But Hezekiah could not live always with a pin tied to her bill; so, for
peace' sake, I gave her away to a friend, and Dick was left alone in his
glory.
Poor Dickie! One day he was shelling peas to himself in the garden,
when some boys startled him, and he flew away. I suppose he lost
himself, and couldn't find his way back. At all events I only saw him
once again. I was going down through an avenue of trees about a mile
from the house, when a voice above in a tree hailed me: "Doctor! doctor!
What _is_ it?" That was Dick; but a rook flew past and scared him
again, and away he flew--for ever.
That same evening, Ida, who had been absent for some little time,
returned, and shyly handed me a letter.
"Whom is it from, I wonder, Ida," I said; "so late in the evening, too?"
"Oh, it is from Maggie," Ida replied.
"What!" I exclaimed; "from that impudent bird? Well, let us see what
she has to say;" and opening the note, I read as follows:--
"Dear Master,--I fully endorse all you have written about the
starling, especially as regards their treatment, and if you had added
that they are pert, perky things, you wouldn't have been far out.
Well, we magpies build our nests of sticks on the tops of tall trees,
lining it first with clay, then with grass; our eggs are five in
number, and if they weren't so like to a rook's they might be mistaken
for a blackbird's. The nests are so big that before the little boys
climb up the trees they think they have found a hawk's. In some parts
of the country we are looked upon with a kind of superstitious awe.
This is nonsense; there is nothing wrong about us; we may bring joy to
people, as I do to you, dear Doctor, by my gentle loving ways, but we
never bring grief. We like solitude, and keep ourselves in the wild
state to ourselves. Perhaps if we went in flocks, and had as much to
say for ourselves as those noisy brutes of rooks, we would be more
thought of. Even in the domestic state we like our liberty, and think
it terribly cruel to be obliged to mope all day long in a wicker cage.
It is crueller still to hang us in draughts, or in too strong a sun;
while to keep our cage damp and dirty cramps our legs and gives us
such twinges of rheumatism in our poor unused wings, that we often
long to die and be at rest.
"The treatment, Doctor, you prescribe for starlings will do nicely for
us, and you know how easily we are taught to talk; and I'm sure I _do_
love you, Doctor, and haven't I, all for your sake, made friends with
your black Persian cat and your big Newfoundland dog?
"No, I'm not a thief; I deny the charge. Only if you do leave silver
spoons about, and gold pens, and shillings and sixpenny-bits--why--I--
I borrow them, that is all, and you can always find them in Maggie's
cage.
"We can eat all that starlings eat; yes, and a great many things they
would turn up their supercilious bills at. But, remember, we do like
a little larger allowance of animal food than starlings do.
"No more at present, dear Doctor, but remains your loving and
affectionate Magpie, Maggie."
N.b.--The grammatical error in the last sentence is Maggie's, not mine.