TALKING BIRDS AND THEIR TRAINING.
Many of the larger beaked birds may be taught to speak words or even
sentences, or will learn them of their own accord from overhearing them.
This power is principally possessed by the even tailed parrots, in which
the tongue is large, broad, and fleshy at the tip. Their articulation
does not possess that accuracy and exactness of modulation
characteristic of the human voice, but to a certain extent this is
mimicked. Usually there is a harshness and crudeness in their speech,
though in this respect they greatly vary.
All birds possessing the _power_ of learning to talk are gifted with a
great imitative faculty, and therein lies the secret of their tuition.
Parrots will often pick up words, or odds and ends of sentences, but
usually it is desired that they shall learn some particular phrases, to
suit the fancy of their owner. In this case a little drilling is
required. The trainer should take the bird alone where there will be
nothing to distract his attention; caress and pet him a little, then
repeat the word in a distinct tone, and repeat at intervals of a few
moments. Soon the parrot will attempt to repeat the word; caress him and
reward him with a bit of cracker. Repeat this until he has learned the
word thoroughly; when he has done so an alteration may be made in the
method of training. On all occasions when he desires anything, make him
repeat his lesson before his wishes are gratified. Gradually his lesson
may be increased in length, new words or phrases being added. A lady
relative of the writer possessed, some years ago, a parrot which was
always anxious to be allowed to come from the hall, where he was usually
kept, into the sitting room. Before he was permitted to enter he was
always made to repeat a long string of nonsense, something like the
following: “Pretty little, darling, sweet, beautiful, adorable Polly
wants to come in.” This task he was rather inclined to shirk, and would
commence with: “Pretty Polly wants to come in,” in hopes that would
suffice. The door remaining closed, however, he would in a minute or two
commence with: “Pretty little Polly wants to come in,” and so on, each
time going away back to the commencement, and each time adding one of
the previously omitted words until the whole were given and the door
opened to admit him.
Usually there is no sense in a parrot’s expression; he “Polly wants a
cracker” on all occasions, however inappropriate. He _may_ be taught to
use his language in a manner which is almost startling to one
uninitiated into the secret of the matter, so apparently is it the
action of reasoning powers. We have shown above how the bird can be
taught to repeat any required set of words (within reasonable limits) to
accomplish a desired result. The bird knows nothing about any meaning to
these words, he only knows that by making certain sounds he receives a
reward. Ordinarily a parrot will persistently assert that “Polly wants a
cracker” when Polly doesn’t want anything of the kind, but _does_ want a
drink of water. The owner does not take the parrot’s statement as the
expression of the actual want expressed, but merely that the bird wants
_something_. The parrot consequently uses any phrase he has learned to
express any desire. He is capable of associating certain phrases with
certain results, without knowing anything of the _meaning_ of the
phrase. Thus, if he be taught the phrases: “Polly wants a cracker,” and
“Polly wants a drink,” he will be just as apt to express either one by
either phrase as he will to do so correctly; but if he receives cracker
_only_ when he asks for it, and a drink only when he asks for _that_, he
will learn to associate the different sounds with the different results.
This may be extended beyond this simple illustration as much as
individual ability is capable of.
A story is told of a dweller in some eastern country who trained a
parrot for sale. The bird’s education comprised only one phrase: “There
can be no doubt of that!” To market the parrot was taken, and exposed
for sale. Attracted by his beautiful plumage a certain rich man inquired
the price. “One hundred sequins,” replied the owner. “Is he really worth
all that?” inquired the customer; whereupon the bird exclaims, “There
can be no doubt of that.” Charmed by the appropriateness of the reply
the man buys the bird and takes him home in triumph, which triumph is
changed to a disgust when the limited powers of his prize are
discovered. Enraged at having paid so extravagant a price for so poor a
talker the man one day exclaimed in the presence of the bird: “What a
fool I was to buy such a stupid thing!” Again the parrot’s single
sentence comes in quite appropriate as he repeats, “There can be no
doubt of that!”
A bird show was held at a museum in New York several years since, to
which a parrot was sent that had been taught to repeat the Lord’s
Prayer. This was advertised extensively, and hundreds of persons went to
hear the wonder, but to their disappointment and the vexation of the
owner, Poll would not utter a word during the exhibition, although fully
able to do what had been expected. After the show, the parrot was taken
home, and upon reaching its place it exclaimed—probably an accustomed
phrase—“I suppose I can talk now,” and became as voluble as ever.
The bird’s silence was not remarkable, as song birds will seldom sing
freely for some time after being taken to a new place; the speech on
going home certainly seemed to indicate intelligence. A gentleman had
taught his parrot to say, “Get your gun, John,” which was well
remembered one night by the bird, for burglars entered the house, and
Poll, hearing a noise, screamed out at the top of her voice, “Get your
gun, John,” awakening her owner, and at the same time putting the
robbers to flight.
An Englishman describing another wonderful parrot hanging in a cage from
the window of a house which he often passed, said: “It cries ‘Stop
thief’ so naturally that every time I hear it I always stop.”
It is very essential that the trainer should be on good terms with the
parrot, in order to secure success, as they will not readily learn for
one for whom they entertain any dislike. Under favorable circumstances
not only do they copy the words of their trainer but even his
peculiarities of voice. Buffon mentions a gray parrot which was taught
to speak by a sailor during a voyage from Guinea, and acquired so
exactly his harsh voice and cough as to be frequently mistaken for him.
It was afterward instructed by a young man, and although it then heard
no voice but that of its new teacher, the former lessons were never
forgotten, and it often amused the bystanders by suddenly passing from a
soft and agreeable voice to its old hoarse sea tone.
Not only do parrots learn to imitate the human voice but also that of
animals. This is more difficult to teach owing to the difficulty of
securing the sounds for the bird to copy. A bird of good powers will
usually pick up this knowledge if it has an opportunity of frequently
hearing the animals. The blue and yellow macaw, though it does not
readily learn words (except “Jacob,”) seems to have a talent for
imitating the bleating of sheep, the mewing of cats, and the barking of
dogs, with great exactness.
It not only has the power of learning but often shows a desire to do so.
It continually repeats the syllables which it has heard, and in order
not to be misled in memory, endeavors to cry down all sounds which
disturb it. So deep an impression do its lessons make that sometimes it
dreams aloud. When young its memory is so good as to retain whole verses
and sentences. Rhodiginus mentions a gray parrot which could repeat the
Apostles’ Creed without a slip, and was on that account bought by a
cardinal for a hundred crowns.
In Scotland a species of parrot is employed to call the names of the
stations on the railway. Each bird is taught the name of the station at
which it is placed, and this name it shouts on the approach of the
train.
Several birds besides parrots possess the power of talking. Magpies are
taught in Germany to imitate not only the human voice but many striking
sounds. They are taken from the nest when quite young, otherwise this
cannot be accomplished. A clergyman in Paris is said to have had two
sparrows which were able to repeat the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh
commandments. It produced a highly comic effect when, in their quarrels
over their food, one of them would gravely admonish the other—“Thou
shalt not steal.”
Ravens often talk with considerable fluency. In Thugaingia the traveler
on entering an inn is frequently saluted with the appellations, “thief,
rascal,” uttered by one of these birds. Some trainers with a view to
facilitate the utterance of articulate sounds, are accustomed to cut
what is called the string of the tongue, an operation which certainly
attains its end in some measure, though ravens often speak on which it
has not been performed.
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