THE BULL-FINCH.
This bird, which is common to all parts of the country, is very shy,
and for the greater part of the year haunts the woods and thickets.
In spring, however, its fondness for tender fruit-buds tempts it into
gardens and orchards, where, being considered an enemy, it is destroyed
without mercy. It is a question, however, whether it devours these
young buds as favourite food, or whether it may not be the equally
distinctive grub or insect which is the temptation; and thus, that
it ought rather to be regarded as the friend than the enemy of the
gardener and fruit-grower. At all events, the general opinion is
against the poor bull-finch. He is declared to be a devourer of the
embryo fruit, and no mercy is shown to him. The Rev. J. G. Wood, always
a merciful judge where birds are concerned, thinks that public opinion
is unfairly against him. He says that a gooseberry tree, from which it
was supposed that the bull-finches had picked away every blossom-bud,
yet bore the same year an abundant crop of fruit, which certainly
proved that they had picked away only the already infected buds, and so
left the tree in an additionally healthy state, doubly able to mature
and perfect its fruit.
Bull-finches seldom associate with other birds, but keep together in
small flocks as of single families. Its flight, though quick, is
somewhat undulating or wavering; and in the winter it may sometimes
be seen in large numbers flitting along the roadsides and hedges,
being probably forced out of some of its shyness by the stress of
hunger. Its ordinary note is a soft and plaintive whistle; its song,
short and mellow. It is, in its native state, no way distinguished as
a singing-bird, but at the same time it is possessed of a remarkable
faculty for learning tunes artificially, of which I may have more to
say presently.
The bull-finch begins to build about the beginning of May. She places
her nest, as we see in our illustration, in a bush, frequently a
hawthorn, at no great distance from the ground. The nest is not very
solidly put together; the foundation, so to speak, being composed of
small dry twigs, then finished off with fibrous roots and moss, which
also form the lining. The eggs, five or six in number, are of a dull
bluish-white, marked at the larger end with dark spots.
Although there is so little to say about the bull-finch in his natural
state—excepting that he is a handsome bird, with bright black eyes,
a sort of rich black hood on his head; his back, ash-grey; his breast
and underparts, red; wings and tail, black, with the upper tail-coverts
white—yet when he has gone through his musical education, he is not
only one of the most accomplished of song-birds, but one of the most
loving and faithfully attached little creatures that can come under
human care. These trained birds are known as piping bull-finches.
[Illustration:
BULL-FINCH AND NESTLINGS. [Page 102.
]
[Sidenote: _How it is taught to pipe._]
Bishop Stanley, in his “History of Birds,” thus describes the method by
which they are taught:—
“In the month of June, the young ones, which are taken from the nest
for that purpose, are brought up by a person, who, by care and
attention, so completely tames them that they become perfectly docile
and obedient. At the expiration of about a couple of months, they first
begin to whistle, from which time their education begins, and no school
can be more diligently superintended by its master, and no scholars
more effectually trained to their own calling, than a seminary of
bull-finches. They are formed first into classes of about six in each,
and, after having been kept a longer time than usual without food, and
confined to a dark room, the tune they are to learn is played over
and over again, on a little instrument called a bird-organ, the notes
of which resemble, as nearly as possible, those of the bull-finch;
sometimes, also, a flageolet is used for this purpose, and birds so
taught are said to have the finer notes. For awhile the little moping
creatures will sit in silence, not knowing what all this can mean; but
after awhile one by one will begin to imitate the notes they hear, for
they have great power of imitation as well as remarkably good memories.
As soon as they have said their lesson all round, light is admitted
into the room, and they are fed.
“By degrees the sound of the musical instrument—be it flageolet or
bird-organ—and the circumstance of being fed, become so associated in
the mind of the hungry bird, that it is sure to begin piping the tune
as soon as it hears it begin to play. When the little scholars have
advanced so far they are put into a higher class, that is to say, are
turned over each to his private tutor; in other words, each bird is put
under the care of a boy who must carry on its education, and who plays
on the little instrument from morning to night, or as long as the bird
can pay attention, during which time the head-master or feeder goes
his regular rounds, scolding or rewarding the little feathered scholars
by signs and modes of making them understand, till they have learned
their lessons so perfectly, and the tune is so impressed on their
memories, that they will pipe it to the end of their days; and let us
hope, as I believe is the fact, that they find in it a never-ending
delight.
“Just as in human schools and colleges, it is only the few out of the
great number who take the highest honours or degrees, or become senior
wranglers, so it is not above five birds in every hundred who can
attain to the highest perfection in their art! but all such are valued
at a very high price.”
It is allowable to hope that the poor bull-finch, which has thus
industriously applied himself to learn, and has thus become
artificially gifted with the power of pleasing, takes great
satisfaction in his accomplishment. Perhaps also the association with
his human teacher calls forth his affection as well as his power of
song, for it is a fact that the piping bull-finch is, of all birds,
given to attach itself to some one individual of the family where it
is kept, expressing, at their approach, the most vehement delight,
greeting them with its piping melody, hopping towards them, and
practising all its little winning ways to show its love, and to court a
return of caresses.
“An interesting story,” says the bishop, “was told by Sir William
Parsons, who was himself a great musician, and who, when a young man,
possessed a piping bull-finch, which he had taught to sing, ‘God save
the king.’ On his once going abroad, he gave his favourite in charge
to his sister, with a strict injunction to take the greatest care of
it. On his return, one of his first visits was to her, when she told
him that the poor little bird had been long in declining health, and
was, at that moment, very ill. Sir William, full of sorrow, went into
the room where the cage was, and, opening the door, put in his hand,
and spoke to the bird. The poor little creature recognised his voice,
opened his eyes, shook his feathers, staggered on to his finger, piped
‘God save the king,’ and fell down dead.”
[Sidenote: _The Devoted Affection of Birds._]
We see in the piping bull-finch—a bird which in its education is
closely associated with man—the deep and devoted affection of which
it is capable; and if we could only live with the animal creation as
their friends and benefactors, we should no longer be surprised by such
instances of their intelligence and love.
[Illustration]