The bird-_sellers_ in the streets are also the bird-_catchers_ in the
fields, plains, heaths, and woods, which still surround the metropolis;
and in compliance with established precedent it may be proper that I
should give an account of the catching, before I proceed to any further
statement of the procedures subsequent thereunto. The bird-catchers are
precisely what I have described them in my introductory remarks. An
intelligent man, versed in every part of the bird business, and well
acquainted with the character of all engaged in it, said they might
be represented as of “the fancy,” in a small way, and always glad to
run after, and full of admiration of, fighting men. The bird-catcher’s
life is one essentially vagrant; a few gipsies pursue it, and they
mix little in street-trades, except as regards tinkering; and the
mass, not gipsies, who become bird-catchers, rarely leave it for any
other avocation. They “catch” unto old age. During last winter two
men died in the parish of Clerkenwell, both turned seventy, and both
bird-catchers--a profession they had followed from the age of six.
The mode of catching I will briefly describe. It is principally
effected by means of nets. A bird-net is about twelve yards square;
it is spread flat upon the ground, to which it is secured by four
“stars.” These are iron pins, which are inserted in the field, and hold
the net, but so that the two “wings,” or “flaps,” which are indeed
the sides of the nets, are not confined by the stars. In the middle
of the net is a cage with a fine wire roof, widely worked, containing
the “call-bird.” This bird is trained to sing loudly and cheerily,
great care being bestowed upon its tuition, and its song attracts the
wild birds. Sometimes a few stuffed birds are spread about the cage as
if a flock were already assembling there. The bird-catcher lies flat
and motionless on the ground, 20 or 30 yards distant from the edge
of the net. As soon as he considers that a sufficiency of birds have
congregated around his decoy, he rapidly draws towards him a line,
called the “pull-line,” of which he has kept hold. This is so looped
and run within the edges of the net, that on being smartly pulled,
the two wings of the net collapse and fly together, the stars still
keeping their hold, and the net encircles the cage of the call-bird,
and incloses in its folds all the wild birds allured round it. In fact
it then resembles a great cage of net-work. The captives are secured
in cages--the call-bird continuing to sing as if in mockery of their
struggles--or in hampers proper for the purpose, which are carried on
the man’s back to London.
The use of the call-bird as a means of decoy is very ancient.
Sometimes--and more especially in the dark, as in the taking of
nightingales--the bird-catcher imitates the notes of the birds to be
captured. A small instrument has also been used for the purpose, and to
this Chaucer, although figuratively, alludes: “So, the birde is begyled
with the merry voice of the foulers’ whistel, when it is closed in your
nette.”
Sometimes, in the pride of the season, a bird-catcher engages a
costermonger’s poney or donkey cart, and perhaps his boy, the better
to convey the birds to town. The net and its apparatus cost 1_l._ The
call-bird, if he have a good wild note--goldfinches and linnets being
principally so used--is worth 10_s._ at the least.
The bird-catcher’s life has many, and to the constitution of some
minds, irresistible charms. There is the excitement of “sport”--not the
headlong excitement of the chase, where the blood is stirred by motion
and exercise--but still sport surpassing that of the angler, who plies
his finest art to capture one fish at a time, while the bird-catcher
despises an individual capture, but seeks to ensnare a flock at one
twitch of a line. There is, moreover, the attraction of idleness, at
least for intervals, and sometimes long intervals--perhaps the great
charm of fishing--and basking in the lazy sunshine, to watch the
progress of the snares. Birds, however, and more especially linnets,
are caught in the winter, when it is not quite such holiday work. A
bird-dealer (not a street-seller) told me that the greatest number of
birds he had ever heard of as having been caught at one pull was nearly
200. My informant happened to be present on the occasion. “Pulls” of
50, 100, and 150 are not very unfrequent when the young broods are all
on the wing.
Of the bird-catchers, including all who reside in Woolwich, Greenwich,
Hounslow, Isleworth, Barnet, Uxbridge, and places of similar
distance, all working for the London market, there are about 200.
The localities where these men “catch,” are the neighbourhoods of
the places I have mentioned as their residences, and at Holloway,
Hampstead, Highgate, Finchley, Battersea, Blackheath, Putney, Mortlake,
Chiswick, Richmond, Hampton, Kingston, Eltham, Carshalton, Streatham,
the Tootings, Woodford, Epping, Snaresbrook, Walthamstow, Tottenham,
Edmonton--wherever, in fine, are open fields, plains, or commons around
the metropolis.
I will first enumerate the several birds sold in the streets, as well
as the supply to the shops by the bird-catchers. I have had recourse
to the best sources of information. Of the number of birds which I
shall specify as “supplied,” or “caught,” it must be remembered that a
not-very-small proportion die before they can be trained to song, or
inured to a cage life. I shall also give the street prices. All the
birds are caught by the nets with call-birds, excepting such as I shall
notice. I take the singing birds first.
The _Linnet_ is the cheapest and among the most numerous of what may
be called the London-caught birds, for it is caught in the nearer
suburbs, such as Holloway. The linnet, however,--the brown linnet
being the species--is not easily reared, and for some time ill brooks
confinement. About one-half of those birds die after having been caged
a few days. The other evening a bird-catcher supplied 26 fine linnets
to a shopkeeper in Pentonville, and next morning ten were dead. But
in some of those bird shops, and bird chambers connected with the
shops, the heat at the time the new broods are caught and caged,
is excessive; and the atmosphere, from the crowded and compulsory
fellowship of pigeons, and all descriptions of small birds, with white
rats, hedgehogs, guinea-pigs, and other creatures, is often very foul;
so that the wonder is, not that so many die, but that so many survive.
Some bird-connoisseurs prefer the note of the linnet to that of the
canary, but this is far from a general preference. The young birds
are sold in the streets at 3_d._ and 4_d._ each; the older birds,
which are accustomed to sing in their cages, from 1_s._ to 2_s._ 6_d._
The “catch” of linnets--none being imported--may be estimated, for
London alone, at 70,000 yearly. The mortality I have mentioned is
confined chiefly to that year’s brood. One-tenth of the catch is sold
in the streets. Of the quality of the street-sold birds I shall speak
hereafter.
The _Bullfinch_, which is bold, familiar, docile, and easily attached,
is a favourite cage-bird among the Londoners; I speak of course as
regards the body of the people. It is as readily sold in the streets
as any other singing bird. Piping bullfinches are also a part of
street-trade, but only to a small extent, and with bird-sellers who
can carry them from their street pitches, or call on their rounds,
at places where they are known, to exhibit the powers of the bird.
The piping is taught to these finches when very young, and they must
be brought up by their tutor, and be familiar with him. When little
more than two months old, they begin to whistle, and then their
training as pipers must commence. This tuition, among professional
bullfinch-trainers, is systematic. They have schools of birds, and
teach in bird-classes of from four to seven members in each, six being
a frequent number. These classes, when their education commences, are
kept unfed for a longer time than they have been accustomed to, and
they are placed in a darkened room. The bird is wakeful and attentive
from the want of his food, and the tune he is to learn is played
several times on an instrument made for the purpose, and known as a
bird-organ, its notes resembling those of the bullfinch. For an hour
or two the young pupils mope silently, but they gradually begin to
imitate the notes of the music played to them. When one commences--and
he is looked upon as the most likely to make a good piper--the others
soon follow his example. The light is then admitted and a portion of
food, but not a full meal, is given to the birds. Thus, by degrees,
by the playing on the bird-organ (a flute is sometimes used), by the
admission of light, which is always agreeable to the finch, and by the
reward of more and more, and sometimes more relishable food, the pupil
“practises” the notes he hears continuously. The birds are then given
into the care of boys, who attend to them without intermission in a
similar way, their original teacher still overlooking, praising, or
rating his scholars, till they acquire a tune which they pipe as long
as they live. It is said, however, that only five per cent. of the
number taught pipe in _perfect_ harmony. The bullfinch is often pettish
in his piping, and will in many instances not pipe at all, unless
in the presence of some one who feeds it, or to whom it has become
attached.
The system of training I have described is that practised by the
Germans, who have for many years supplied this country with the best
piping bullfinches. Some of the dealers will undertake to procure
English-taught bullfinches which will pipe as well as the foreigners,
but I am told that this is a prejudice, if not a trick, of trade.
The mode of teaching in this country, by barbers, weavers, and
bird-fanciers generally, who seek for a profit from their pains-taking,
is somewhat similar to that which I have detailed, but with far less
elaborateness. The price of a piping bullfinch is about three guineas.
These pipers are also reared and taught in Leicestershire and Norfolk,
and sent to London, as are the singing bullfinches which do not “pipe.”
The bullfinches netted near London are caught more numerously about
Hounslow than elsewhere. In hard winters they are abundant in the
outskirts of the metropolis. The yearly supply, including those sent
from Norfolk, &c., is about 30,000. The bullfinch is “hearty compared
to the linnet,” I was told, but of the amount which are the objects of
trade, not more than two-thirds live many weeks. The price of a good
young bullfinch is 2_s._ 6_d._ and 3_s._ They are often sold in the
streets for 1_s._ The hawking or street trade comprises about a tenth
of the whole.
The sale of piping bullfinches is, of course, small, as only the rich
can afford to buy them. A dealer estimated it at about 400 yearly.
The _Goldfinch_ is also in demand by street customers, and is a
favourite from its liveliness, beauty, and sometimes sagacity. It
is, moreover, the longest lived of our caged small birds, and will
frequently live to the age of fifteen or sixteen years. A goldfinch
has been known to exist twenty-three years in a cage. Small birds,
generally, rarely live more than nine years. This finch is also in
demand because it most readily of any bird pairs with the canary, the
produce being known as a “mule,” which, from its prettiness and powers
of song, is often highly valued.
Goldfinches are sold in the streets at from 6_d._ to 1_s._ each, and
when there is an extra catch, and they are nearly all caught about
London, and the shops are fully stocked, at 3_d._ and 4_d._ each. The
yearly catch is about the same as that of the linnet, or 70,000, the
mortality being perhaps 30 per cent. If any one casts his eye over
the stock of hopping, chirping little creatures in the window of a
bird-shop, or in the close array of small cages hung outside, or at
the stock of a street-seller, he will be struck by the preponderating
number of goldfinches. No doubt the dealer, like any other shopkeeper,
dresses his window to the best advantage, putting forward his smartest
and prettiest birds. The demand for the goldfinch, especially among
women, is steady and regular. The street-sale is a tenth of the whole.
The _Chaffinch_ is in less request than either of its congeners, the
bullfinch or the goldfinch, but the catch is about half that of the
bullfinch, and with the same rate of mortality. The prices are also
the same.
_Greenfinches_ (called _green birds_, or sometimes _green linnets_, in
the streets) are in still smaller request than are chaffinches, and
that to about one-half. Even this smaller stock is little saleable, as
the bird is regarded as “only a middling singer.” They are sold in the
open air, at 2_d._ and 3_d._ each, but a good “green bird” is worth
2_s._ 6_d._
_Larks_ are of good sale and regular supply, being perhaps more
readily caught than other birds, as in winter they congregate in large
quantities. It may be thought, to witness the restless throwing up of
the head of the caged sky-lark, as if he were longing for a soar in the
air, that he was very impatient of restraint. This does not appear to
be so much the fact, as the lark adapts himself to the poor confines of
his prison--poor indeed for a bird who soars higher and longer than any
of his class--more rapidly than other wild birds, like the linnet, &c.
The mortality of larks, however, approaches one-third.
The yearly “take” of larks is 60,000. This includes sky-larks,
wood-larks, tit-larks, and mud-larks. The sky-lark is in far better
demand than any of the others for his “stoutness of song,” but
some prefer the tit-lark, from the very absence of such stoutness.
“Fresh-catched” larks are vended in the streets at 6_d._ and 8_d._, but
a seasoned bird is worth 2_s._ 6_d._ One-tenth is the street-sale.
The larks for the supply of fashionable tables are never provided by
the London bird-catchers, who catch only “singing larks,” for the
shop and street-traffic. The edible larks used to be highly esteemed
in pies, but they are now generally roasted for consumption. They are
principally the produce of Cambridgeshire, with some from Bedfordshire,
and are sent direct (killed) to Leadenhall-market, where about
215,000 are sold yearly, being nearly two-thirds of the gross London
consumption.
It is only within these twelve or fifteen years that the London dealers
have cared to trade to any extent in _Nightingales_, but they are now
a part of the stock of every bird-shop of the more flourishing class.
Before that they were merely exceptional as cage-birds. As it is,
the “domestication,” if the word be allowable with reference to the
nightingale, is but partial. Like all migratory birds, when the season
for migration approaches, the caged nightingale shows symptoms of
great uneasiness, dashing himself against the wires of his cage or his
aviary, and sometimes dying in a few days. Many of the nightingales,
however, let the season pass away without showing any consciousness
that it was, with the race of birds to which they belonged, one for a
change of place. To induce the nightingale to sing in the daylight,
a paper cover is often placed over the cage, which may be gradually
and gradually withdrawn until it can be dispensed with. This is to
induce the appearance of twilight or night. On the subject of this
night-singing, however, I will cite a short passage.
“The Nightingale is usually supposed to withhold his notes till the sun
has set, and then to be the only songster left. This is, however, not
quite true, for he sings in the day, often as sweetly and as powerfully
as at night; but amidst the general chorus of other singing birds,
his efforts are little noticed. Neither is he by any means the only
feathered musician of the night. The Wood-lark will, to a very late
hour, pour forth its rich notes, flying in circles round the female,
when sitting on her nest. The Sky-lark, too, may frequently be heard
till near midnight high in the air, soaring as if in the brightness
of a summer’s morning. Again we have listened with pleasure long
after dark to the warblings of a Thrush, and been awakened at two in
the morning by its sweet serenade.” It appears, however, that this
night-singing, as regards England, is on fine summer nights when the
darkness is never very dense. In far northern climates larks sing all
night.
I am inclined to believe that the mortality among nightingales, before
they are reconciled to their new life, is higher than that of any
other bird, and much exceeding one-half. The dealers may be unwilling
to admit this; but such mortality is, I have been assured on good
authority, the case; besides that, the habits of the nightingale unfit
him for a cage existence.
The capture of the nightingale is among the most difficult achievements
of the profession. None are caught nearer than Epping, and the
catchers travel considerable distances before they have a chance of
success. These birds are caught at night, and more often by their
captor’s imitation of the nightingale’s note, than with the aid of the
call-bird. Perhaps 1000 nightingales are reared yearly in London, of
which three-fourths may be, more or less, songsters. The inferior birds
are sold at about 2_s._ each, the street-sale not reaching 100, but the
birds, “caged and singing,” are worth 1_l._ each, when of the best; and
10_s._ 12_s._ and 15_s._ each when approaching the best. The mortality
I have estimated.
_Redbreasts_ are a portion of the street-sold birds, but the catch is
not large, not exceeding 3000, with a mortality of about a third. Even
this number, small as it is, when compared with the numbers of other
singing birds sold, is got rid of with difficulty. There is a popular
feeling repugnant to the imprisonment, or coercion in any way, of “a
robin,” and this, no doubt has its influence in moderating the demand.
The redbreast is sold, when young, both in the shops and streets for
1_s._, when caged and singing, sometimes for 1_l._ These birds are
considered to sing best by candlelight. The street-sale is a fifth, or
sometimes a quarter, all young birds, or with the rarest exceptions.
The _Thrush_, _Throstle_, or (in Scottish poetry) _Mavis_, is of good
sale. It is reared by hand, for the London market, in many of the
villages and small towns at no great distance, the nests being robbed
of the young, wherever they can be found. The nestling food of the
infant thrush is grubs, worms, and snails, with an occasional moth or
butterfly. On this kind of diet the young thrushes are reared until
they are old enough for sale to the shopkeeper, or to any private
patron. Thrushes are also netted, but those reared by hand are much
the best, as such a rearing disposes the bird the more to enjoy his
cage life, as he has never experienced the delights of the free hedges
and thickets. This process the catchers call “rising” from the nest.
A throstle thus “rose” soon becomes familiar with his owner--always
supposing that he be properly fed and his cage duly cleaned, for all
birds detest dirt--and among the working-men of England no bird is a
greater favourite than the thrush; indeed few other birds are held
in such liking by the artisan class. About a fourth of the thrushes
supplied to the metropolitan traders have been thus “rose,” and as
they must be sufficiently grown before they will be received by the
dealers, the mortality among them, when once able to feed themselves,
in their wicker-work cages, is but small. Perhaps somewhere about a
fourth perish in this hand-rearing, and some men, the aristocrats of
the trade, let a number go when they have ascertained that they are
hens, as these men exert themselves to bring up thrushes to sing well,
and then they command good prices. Often enough, however, the hens are
sold cheap in the streets. Among the catch supplied by netting, there
is a mortality of perhaps more than a third. The whole take is about
35,000. Of the sale the streets have a tenth proportion. The prices run
from 2_s._ 6_d._ and 3_s._ for the “fresh-caught,” and 10_s._, 1_l._,
and as much as 2_l._ for a seasoned throstle in high song. Indeed I may
observe that for any singing bird, which is considered greatly to excel
its mates, a high price is obtainable.
_Blackbirds_ appear to be less prized in London than thrushes, for,
though with a mellower note, the blackbird is not so free a singer
in captivity. They are “rose” and netted in the same manner as the
thrush, but the supply is less by one-fifth. The prices, mortality,
street-sale, &c., are in the same ratio.
The street-sale of _Canaries_ is not large; not so large, I am assured
by men in the trade, as it was six or seven years ago, more especially
as regarded the higher-priced birds of this open-air traffic. Canaries
are now never brought from the group of islands, thirteen in number,
situate in the North Atlantic and near the African coast, and from
which they derive their name. To these islands and to these alone (as
far as is known to ornithologists) are they indigenous. The canary is
a slow flyer and soon wearied; this is one reason no doubt for its not
migrating. This delightful songster was first brought into England
in the reign of Elizabeth, at the era when so many foreign luxuries
(as they were then considered, and stigmatised accordingly) were
introduced; of these were potatoes, tobacco, turkeys, nectarines, and
canaries. I have seen no account of what was the cost of a canary-bird
when first imported, but there is no doubt that they were very dear,
as they were found only in the abodes of the wealthy. This bird-trade
seems, moreover, to have been so profitable to the Spaniards, then
and now the possessors of the isles, that a government order for the
killing or setting at liberty of all hen canaries, caught with the
males, was issued in order that the breed might be confined to its
native country; a decree not attended with successful results as
regards the intention of the then ruling powers.
The foreign supply to this country is now principally from Holland
and Germany, where canaries are reared in great numbers, with that
care which the Dutch in especial bestow upon everything on which
money-making depends, and whence they are sent or brought over in the
spring of every year, when from nine to twelve months old. Thirty
years ago, the Tyrolese were the principal breeders and purveyors of
canaries for the London market. From about the era of the peace of
1814, on the first abdication of Napoleon, for ten or twelve years
they brought over about 2000 birds yearly. They travelled the whole
way on foot, carrying the birds in cages on their backs, until they
reached whatever port in France or the Netherlands (as Belgium then
was) they might be bound for. The price of a canary of an average
quality was then from 5_s._ to 8_s._ 6_d._, and a fair proportion were
street-sold. At that period, I was told, the principal open-air sale
for canaries (and it is only of that I now write) was in Whitechapel
and Bethnal-green. All who are familiar with those localities may smile
to think that the birds chirping and singing in these especially urban
places, were bred for such street-traffic in the valleys of the Rhætian
Alps! I presume that it was the greater rapidity of communication, and
the consequent diminished cost of carriage, between England, Holland,
and Germany, that caused the Tyrolese to abandon the trade as one
unremunerative--even to men who will live on bread, onions, and water.
I have, perhaps, dwelt somewhat at length on this portion of the
subject, but it is the most curious portion of all, for the canary is
the only one of all our singing-birds which is _solely_ a household
thing. Linnets, finches, larks, nightingales, thrushes, and blackbirds,
are all free denizens of the open air, as well as prisoners in our
rooms, but the canary with us is unknown in a wild state. “Though not
very handy,” wrote, in 1848, a very observant naturalist, the late Dr.
Stanley, Bishop of Norwich, “canaries might possibly be naturalized
in our country, by putting their eggs in the nests of sparrows,
chaffinches, or other similar birds. The experiment has been partially
tried in Berkshire, where a person for years kept them in an exposed
aviary out of doors, and where they seemed to suffer no inconvenience
from the severest weather.”
The breeding of canaries in this country for the London supply has
greatly increased. They are bred in Leicester and Norwich, weavers
being generally fond of birds. In London itself, also, they are bred to
a greater extent than used to be the case, barbers being among the most
assiduous rearers of the canary. A dealer who trades in both foreign
and home-bred birds thought that the supply from the country, and from
the Continent, was about the same, 8000 to 9000 each, not including
what were sold by the barbers, who are regarded as “fanciers,” not to
say interlopers, by the dealers. No species of birds are ever bred by
the shop-dealers. The price of a brisk canary is 5_s._ or 6_s._; but
they are sold in the streets as low as 1_s._ each, a small cage worth
6_d._ being sometimes included. These, however, are hens. As in the
life of a canary there is no transition from freedom to enthralment,
for they are in a cage in the egg, and all their lives afterwards, they
are subject to a far lower rate of mortality than other street-sold
birds. A sixteenth of the number above stated as forming the gross
supply are sold in the streets.
* * * * *
The foregoing enumeration includes all the singing-birds of
street-traffic and street-folk’s supply. The trade I have thus sketched
is certainly one highly curious. We find that there is round London
a perfect belt of men, employed from the first blush of a summer’s
dawn, through the heats of noon, in many instances during the night,
and in the chills of winter; and all labouring to give to city-pent
men of humble means one of the peculiar pleasures of the country--the
song of the birds. It must not be supposed that I would intimate that
the bird-catcher’s life, as regards his field and wood pursuits, is
one of hardship. On the contrary, it seems to me to be the very one
which, perhaps unsuspected by himself, is best suited to his tastes
and inclinations. Nor can we think similar pursuits partake much of
hardship when we find independent men follow them for mere sport, to be
rid of lassitude.
* * * * *
But the detail of the birds captured for the Londoners by no means ends
here. I have yet to describe those which are not songsters, and which
are a staple of street-traffic to a greater degree than birds of song.
Of these my notice may be brief.
The trade in _Sparrows_ is almost exclusively a street-trade and,
numerically considered, not an inconsiderable one. They are netted
in quantities in every open place near London, and in many places in
London. It is common enough for a bird-catcher to obtain leave to catch
sparrows in a wood-yard, a brick-field, or places where is an open
space certain to be frequented by these bold and familiar birds. The
sparrows are sold in the streets generally at 1_d._ each, sometimes
halfpenny, and sometimes 1-1/2_d._, and for no purpose of enjoyment
(as in the case of the cheap song birds), but merely as playthings for
children; in other words, for creatures wilfully or ignorantly to be
tortured. Strings are tied to their legs and so they have a certain
degree of freedom, but when they offer to fly away they are checked,
and kept fluttering in the air as a child will flutter a kite. One man
told me that he had sometimes sold as many as 200 sparrows in the back
streets about Smithfield on a fine Sunday. These birds are not kept in
cages, and so they can only be bought for a plaything. They oft enough
escape from their persecutors.
But it is not merely for the sport of children that sparrows are
purveyed, but for that of grown men, or--as Charles Lamb, if I remember
rightly, qualifies it, when he draws a Pentonville sportsman with
a little shrubbery for his preserve--for grown cockneys. The birds
for adult recreation are shot in sparrow-matches; the gentleman
slaughtering the most being, of course, the hero of a sparrow
“_battue_.” One dealer told me that he had frequently supplied dozens
of sparrows for these matches, at 2_s._ the dozen, but they were
required to be fine bold birds! One dealer thought that during the
summer months there were as many sparrows caught close to and within
London as there were goldfinches in the less urban districts. These
birds are sold direct from the hands of the catcher, so that it is
less easy to arrive at statistics than when there is the intervention
of dealers who know the extent of the trade carried on. I was told
by several, who had no desire to exaggerate, that to estimate this
sparrow-sale at 10,000 yearly, sold to children and idlers in the
streets, was too low, but at that estimate, the outlay, at 1_d._ a
sparrow, would be 850_l._ The adult sportsmen may slaughter half that
number yearly in addition. The sporting sparrows are derived from the
shopkeepers, who, when they receive the order, instruct the catchers to
go to work.
_Starlings_ used to be sold in very great quantities in the streets,
but the trade is now but the shadow of its former state. The starling,
too, is far less numerous than it was, and has lost much of its
popularity. It is now seldom seen in flocks of more than 40, and it is
rare to see a flock at all, although these birds at one period mustered
in congregations of hundreds and even thousands. Ruins, and the roofs
of ancient houses and barns--for they love the old and decaying
buildings--were once covered with them. The starling was moreover
the poor man’s and the peasant’s parrot. He was taught to speak, and
sometimes to swear. But now the starling, save as regards his own note,
is mute. He is seldom tamed or domesticated and taught tricks. It is
true starlings may be seen carried on sticks in the street as if the
tamest of the tame, but they are “braced.” Tapes are passed round their
bodies, and so managed that the bird cannot escape from the stick,
while his fetters are concealed by his feathers, the street-seller of
course objecting to allow his birds to be handled.
Starlings are caught chiefly Ilford way, I was told, and about
Turnham-green. Some are “rose” from the nest. The price is from 9_d._
to 2_s._ each. About 3000 are sold annually, half in the streets. After
having been braced, or ill-used, the starling, if kept as a solitary
bird, will often mope and die.
_Jackdaws_ and _Magpies_ are in less demand than might be expected from
their vivacity. Many of the other birds are supplied the year round,
but daws and pies for only about two months, from the middle of June to
the middle of August. The price is from 6_d._ to 1_s._ and about 1000
are thus disposed of, in equal quantities, one-half in the streets.
These birds are for the most part reared from the nest, but little
pains appear to be taken with them.
The _Redpole_ is rather a favourite bird among street-buyers,
especially where children are allowed to choose birds from a stock.
I am told that they most frequently select a goldfinch or a redpole.
These birds are supplied for about two months. About 800 or 1000 is
the extent of the take. The mortality and prices are the same as with
the goldfinch, but a goldfinch in high song is worth twice as much as
the best redpole. About a third of the sale of the redpole is in the
streets.
There are also 150 or 200 _Black-caps_ sold annually in the open air,
at from 3_d._ to 5_d._ each.
* * * * *
These are the chief birds, then, that constitute the trade of the
streets, with the addition of an occasional yellow-hammer, wren, jay,
or even cuckoo. They also, with the addition of pigeons, form the stock
of the bird-shops.
I have shown the number of birds caught, the number which survive for
sale, and the cost; and, as usual, under the head of “Statistics,” will
be shown the whole annual expenditure. This, however, is but a portion
of the London outlay on birds. There is, in addition, the cost of their
cages and of their daily food. The commonest and smallest cage costs
6_d._, a frequent price being 1_s._ A thrush’s basket-cage cannot be
bought, unless rubbish, under 2_s._ 6_d._ I have previously shown the
amount paid for the green food of birds, and for their turfs, &c., for
these are all branches of street-commerce. Of their other food, such as
rape and canary-seed, German paste, chopped eggs, biscuit, &c., I need
but intimate the extent by showing what birds will consume, as it is
not a portion of street-trade.
A goldfinch, it has been proved by experimentalising ornithologists,
will consume _90_ grains, in weight, of canary-seed in 24 hours. A
greenfinch, for whose use 80 grains of wheat were weighed out, ate 79
of them in 24 hours; and, on another occasion ate, in the same space
of time, 100 grains of a paste of eggs and flour. Sixteen canaries
consumed 100 grains’ weight of food, each bird, in 24 hours. The amount
of provision thus eaten was about one-sixth of the full weight of the
bird’s body, or an equivalent, were a man to swallow victuals in the
same proportion, of 25 lbs. in 24 hours. I may remark, moreover, that
the destruction of caterpillars, insects, worms, &c., by the small
birds, is enormous, especially during the infancy of their nestlings.
A pair of sparrows fed their brood 36 times an hour for 14 hours of a
long spring day, and, it was calculated, administered to them in one
week 3400 caterpillars. A pair of chaffinches, also, carried nearly as
great a number of caterpillars for the maintenance of their young.
* * * * *
The singing-birds sold in the street are offered either singly in small
cages, when the cage is sold with the bird, or they are displayed in
a little flock in a long cage, the buyer selecting any he prefers.
They always appear lively in the streets, or indeed a sale would be
hopeless, for no one would buy a dull or sick bird. The captives are
seen to hop and heard to chirp, but they are not often heard to sing
when thus offered to the public, and it requires some little attention
to judge what is but an impatient flutter, and what is the fruit of
mere hilarity.
The places where the street-sellers more especially offer their birds
are--Smithfield, Clerkenwell-green, Lisson-grove, the City and New
roads, Shepherdess-walk, Old Street-road, Shoreditch, Spitalfields,
Whitechapel, Tower-hill, Ratcliffe-highway, Commercial-road
East, Poplar, Billingsgate, Westminster Broadway, Covent-garden,
Blackfriars-road, Bermondsey (mostly about Dock-head), and in the
neighbourhood of the Borough Market. The street-sellers are also
itinerant, carrying the birds in cages, holding them up to tempt
the notice of people whom they see at the windows, or calling at
the houses. The sale used to be very considerable in the “Cut” and
Lambeth-walk. Sometimes the cages with their inmates are fastened to
any contiguous rail; sometimes they are placed on a bench or stall; and
occasionally in cages on the ground.
To say nothing, in this place, of the rogueries of the bird-trade,
I will proceed to show how the street-sold birds are frequently
inferior to those in the shops. The catcher, as I have stated, is also
the street-seller. He may reach the Dials, or whatever quarter the
dealer he supplies may reside in, with perhaps 30 linnets and as many
goldfinches. The dealer selects 24 of each, refusing the remaining
dozen, on account of their being hens, or hurt, or weakly birds. The
man then resorts to the street to effect a sale of that dozen, and
thus the streets have the refuse of the shops. On the other hand,
however, when the season is at its height, and the take of birds is
the largest, as at this time of year, the shops are “stocked.” The
cages and recesses are full, and the dealer’s anxiety is to sell before
he purchases more birds. The catchers proceed in their avocation;
they must dispose of their stock; the shopkeeper will not buy “at any
figure,” and so the streets are again resorted to, and in this way
fine birds are often sold very cheap. Both these liabilities prevail
the year through, but most in the summer, and keep up a sort of poise;
but I apprehend that the majority, perhaps the great majority, of the
street-sold birds, are of an inferior sort, but then the price is much
lower. On occasions when the bird-trade is overdone, the catchers will
sell a few squirrels, or gather snails for the shops.
The buyers of singing-birds are eminently the working people, along
with the class of tradesmen whose means and disposition are of the
same character as those of the artisan. Grooms and coachmen are
frequently fond of birds; many are kept in the several mews, and
often the larger singing-birds, such as blackbirds and thrushes.
The fondness of a whole body of artificers for any particular bird,
animal, or flower, is remarkable. No better instance need be cited
than that of the Spitalfields weavers. In the days of their prosperity
they were the cultivators of choice tulips, afterwards, though not
in so full a degree, of dahlias, and their pigeons were the best
“fliers” in England. These things were accomplished with little cost,
comparatively, for the weavers were engaged in tasks, grateful and
natural to their tastes and habitudes; and what was expense in the
garden or aviary of the rich, was an exercise of skill and industry
on the part of the silk-weaver. The humanising and even refining
influence of such pursuits is very great, and as regards these pure
pleasures it is not seldom that the refinement which can appreciate
them has proceeded not to but _from_ the artisans. The operatives have
often been in the van of those who have led the public taste from
delighting in the cruelty and barbarity of bear and bull-baiting and
of cock-fighting--among the worst of all possible schools, and very
influential those schools were--to the delight in some of the most
beautiful works of nature. It is easy to picture the difference of
mood between a man going home from a dog-fight at night, or going home
from a visit to his flowers, or from an examination to satisfy himself
that his birds were “all right.” The families of the two men felt the
difference. Many of the rich appear to remain mere savages in their
tastes and sports. Battues, lion and hippopotamus hunting, &c.,--all
are mere civilized barbarisms. When shall we learn, as Wordsworth says,
“Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.”
But the change in Spitalfields is great. Since the prevalence of low
wages the weaver’s garden has disappeared, and his pigeon-cote, even if
its timbers have not rotted away, is no longer stocked with carriers,
dragoons, horsemen, jacobins, monks, poulters, turtles, tumblers,
fantails, and the many varieties of what is in itself a variety--the
fancy-pigeon. A thrush, or a linnet, may still sing to the clatter of
the loom, but that is all. The culture of the tulip, the dahlia, and
(sometimes) of the fuchsia, was attended, as I have said, with small
cost, still it _was_ cost, and the weaver, as wages grew lower, could
not afford either the outlay or the loss of time. To cultivate flowers,
or rear doves, so as to make them a means of subsistence, requires
a man’s whole time, and to such things the Spitalfields man did not
devote his time, but his leisure.
The readers who have perused this work from its first appearance
will have noticed how frequently I have had to comment on the always
realized indication of good conduct, and of a superior taste and
generally a superior intelligence, when I have found the rooms
of working people contain flowers and birds. I could adduce many
instances. I have seen and heard birds in the rooms of tailors,
shoemakers, coopers, cabinet-makers, hatters, dressmakers, curriers,
and street-sellers,--all people of the best class. One of the most
striking, indeed, was the room of a street-confectioner. His family
attended to the sale of the sweets, and he was greatly occupied at
home in their manufacture, and worked away at his peppermint-rock, in
the very heart of one of the thickliest populated parts of London,
surrounded by the song of thrushes, linnets, and goldfinches, all kept,
not for profit, but because he “loved” to have them about him. I have
seldom met a man who impressed me more favourably.
The flowers in the room are more attributable to the superintending
taste of a wife or daughter, and are found in the apartments of the
same class of people.
There is a marked difference between the buyers or keepers of birds
and of dogs in the working classes, especially when the dog is of a
sporting or “varmint” sort. Such a dog-keeper is often abroad and so
his home becomes neglected; he is interested about rat-hunts, knows
the odds on or against the dog’s chance to dispatch his rats in the
time allotted, loses much time and customers, his employers grumbling
that the work is so slowly executed, and so custom or work falls off.
The bird-lover, on the other hand, is generally a more domestic, and,
perhaps consequently, a more prosperous and contented man. It is
curious to mark the refining qualities of particular trades. I do not
remember seeing a bull-dog in the possession of any of the Spitalfields
silk-weavers: with them all was flowers and birds. The same I observed
with the tailors and other kindred occupations. With slaughterers,
however, and drovers, and Billingsgatemen, and coachmen, and cabmen,
whose callings naturally tend to blunt the sympathy with suffering, the
gentler tastes are comparatively unknown. The dogs are almost all of
the “varmint” kind, kept either for rat-killing, fighting, or else for
their ugliness. For “pet” or “fancy” dogs they have no feeling, and in
singing birds they find little or no delight.