What is most prized and admired in house birds is undoubtedly their
song. This may be natural or artificial, the former being as varied as
the species of the birds, for I know of no two indigenous species quite
similar in their song; I ought, perhaps, to except the three species of
shrike I have given, which, from their surprising memory, can imitate
the songs of other birds so as to be mistaken for them: but a naturalist
would soon perceive a slight mixture of the song natural to the
imitator, and thus easily distinguish between the shrike that copied,
and the titlark or red-breast copied from[1]. It is so much the more
important to be well versed in the different birds' songs, as to this
knowledge alone we are indebted for several curious observations on
these pretty creatures.
An artificial song is one borrowed from a bird that the young ones have
heard singing in the room, a person's whistling, a flageolet, or a
bird-organ. Nearly all birds, when young, will learn some strains of
airs whistled or played to them regularly every day; but it is only
those whose memory is capable of retaining these that will abandon their
natural song, and adopt fluently, and repeat without hesitation, the air
that has been taught them. Thus, a young goldfinch learns, it is true,
some part of the melody played to a bullfinch, but it will never be able
to render it as perfectly as this bird; a difference not caused by the
greater or less suppleness of the organ, but rather by the superiority
of memory in the one species over that of the other.
We distinguish in birds a chirping and warbling, or song, properly so
called; besides this, several species, with a large, fleshy, undivided
tongue, are able to repeat articulate sounds, and they are then said to
_talk_, such as parrots and jays.
It is remarkable, that birds which do not sing all the year, such as the
red-breast, siskin, and goldfinch, seem obliged, after moulting, to learn
to warble, as though they had forgotten; but I have seen enough to
convince me that these attempts are merely to render the larynx pliant,
and are a kind of chirping, the notes of which have but little relation
to the proper song; for a slight attention will discover that the larynx
becomes gradually capable of giving the common warble.
This method of recovering the song does not then show deficiency of
memory, but rigidity occasioned by the disuse of the larynx. The
chaffinch will exercise itself in this way some weeks before it attains
its former proficiency, and the nightingale practises as long the
strains of his beautiful song, before he gives it full, clear, and in
all its extent[2].
The strength and compass of a bird's voice depend on the size and
proportionate force of the larynx. In the female it is weak and small,
and this accounts for her want of song. None of our woodland songsters
produces more striking, vigorous, and prolonged sounds than the
nightingale; and none is known with so ample and strong a larynx: but as
we are able to improve the organisation of the body by exercise and
habit, so may we strengthen and extend the larynx of several birds of
the same species, so as to amplify the song in consequence, by more
nutritive food, proper care, sounds that excite emulation, and the like;
chaffinches, bullfinches, canaries, and other birds reared in the house,
furnish daily examples of this.
I should not omit mentioning here an observation of Mr. Daines
Barington[3], which tends to prove the possibility of improving the song
of wild birds, by rearing linnets, sparrows, and others, near some good
warbler, such as a nightingale or canary, and then setting them at
liberty; but, though there is some truth in this assertion, yet it is
subject to certain restrictions. I only know of two ways of carrying
this idea into execution; one by suspending the cages of the best
warblers in the orchard where the birds which they are to teach breed;
the other, to enclose these warblers in a large aviary of iron wire, in
the open air. There let them teach their young ones, which may be set at
liberty as soon as they are able to fly: but birds taken very young from
the nest, and reared, formed, and educated in the house, would not have
instinct to find their food when set at liberty, and must perish of
hunger, or at least die in the winter.
The same remarks are applicable to a work published by M. Gambory at
Copenhagen, in the year 1800.
I think, indeed, it is better to be contented with possessing in our
houses artificial songs than to take so much trouble to alter and spoil
the very delightful music of nature[4].