_To the Editor of the Table Book._
It is my fantasie to have these things,
For they amuse me in my moody hours:
Their voices waft my soul into the woods:
Where bends th’ enamour’d willow o’er the stream,
They make sweet melody.
Of all the earthly things by which the brain of man is twisted and
twirled, heated and cooled, fancy is the most powerful. Like a froward
wife, she invariably leads him by the nose, and almost every man is in
some degree ruled by her. One fancies a horse, another an ass--one a
dog, another a rabbit--one’s delight is in dress, another’s in
negligence--one is a lover of flowers, another of insects--one’s mind
runs on a pigeon, another’s on a hawk--one fancies himself sick, the
doctor fancies he can cure him: death--that stern reality--settles the
matter, by fancying both. One, because he has a little of this life’s
evil assail him, fancies himself miserable, another, as ragged as a
colt, fancies himself happy. One, as ugly as sin, and as hideous as
death, fancies himself handsome--another, a little higher than
six-penn’orth of halfpence, fancies himself a second Saul. In short, it
would take a monthly part of the _Table Book_ to enumerate the different
vagaries of fancy--so multifarious are her forms. Leaving this, proceed
we to one of the fancies which amuse and divert the mind of man in his
leisure and lonely hours--the “_Linnet_ Fancy.”
“Linnet fancy!” I think I hear some taker-up of the _Table Book_ say,
“What’s in a linnet?--rubbish--
A bird that, when caught,
May be had for a groat.”
Music! I answer--melody, unrivalled melody--equal to Philomel’s, that
ever _she_-bird of the poets.--I wish they would call things by their
proper names; for, after all, it is a cock--hens never make harmonious
sounds. The fancy is possessed but by a few, and those, generally, of
the “lower orders”--the weavers and cobblers of Whitechapel and
Spitalfields, for instance. A good bird has been known to fetch ten
sovereigns. I have frequently seen three and four given for one.
Whence the song of the linnet was obtained I cannot tell; but, from what
I have heard the tit-lark and sky-lark do, I incline to believe that a
good deal of theirs is in the song of the linnet. This song consists of
a number of _jerks_, as they are called, some of which a bird will dwell
on, and time with the most beautiful exactness: this is termed a
“_weighed_ bird.” Others rattle through it in a hurried manner, and take
to what is termed _battling_; these are birds often “sung” against
others. It is with them as in a party where many are inclined to sing,
the loudest and quickest tires them out; or, as the phrase is, “knocks
them down.” These _jerks_ are as under. Old fanciers remember more, and
regret the spoliation and loss of the good old strain. I have heard some
of them say, that even larks are not so good as they were forty years
ago. The reader must not suppose that the _jerks_ are warbled in the
apple-pie order in which he sees them here: the birds put them forth as
they please: good birds always _finish_ them.
[Illustration: ~London Bird Catcher, 1827.~]
_Jerks._
Tuck--Tuck--Fear.
Tuck, Tuck, Fear--Ic, Ic, Ic.
Tuck, Tuck, Fear--Ic quake-e-weet. This is a _finished jerk_.
Tuck, Tuck, Joey.
Tuck, Tuck, Tuck, Tuck, Joey--Tolloc cha, Ic quake-e-weet.
Tuck, Tuck, Wizzey.
Tuck, Tuck, Wizzey--Tyr, Tyr, Tyr, Cher--Wye wye Cher.
Tolloc, Ejup, R--Weet, weet, weet.
Tolloc, Ejup, R--Weet, cheer.
Tolloc, Ejup, R--Weet, weet, weet--cheer.
Tolloc, Tolloc, cha--Ic, Ic, Ic, Ic quake--Ic, Ic.
Tolloc, Tolloc, cha--Ic, Ic, Ic, Ic, quake--Ic, Ic, Tyr, Fear.
Tolloc, Tolloc, R--Weet, weet, weet, cheer--Tolloc, cha--Ejup.
Tolloc, Tolloc, R--Ejup.
Tolloc, Tolloc, R--Cha, cea--Pipe, Pipe, Pipe.
Tolloc, Tolloc, R--Ejup--Pipe, Pipe, Pipe.
Lug, Lug, G--Cher, Cher, Cher.
Lug, Lug--Orchee, weet.
Lug, Lug, G--Pipe, Pipe, Pipe.
Lug, Lug, G--Ic, Ic, Ic, Ic, quake, e Pipe Chow.
Lug, Lug, E chow--Lug, Ic, Ic, quake e weet.
Lug, Lug, or--cha cea.
Ic Ic R--Ejup--Pipe chow.
Lug, Lug, E chow, Lug, Ic, Ic, quake-e-weet.
Ic, Ic, R--Ejup, Pipe.
Ic, Ic, R--Ejup, Pipe, chow.
Ic Ic--R cher--Wye, wye, cher.
Ic, Ic R, cher--Weet, cheer.
Ic, Ic--quake-e-weet.
Ic, chow--E chow--Ejup, weet.
Tyr, Tyr, Cher--Wye, wye, cher.
Bell, Bell, Tyr.
Ejup, Ejup, Pipe, Chow.
Ejup, Ejup, Pipe.
Ejup, Ejup, Poy.
Peu Poy--Peu Poy. This is when calling to each other.
Cluck, Cluck, Cha.
Cluck, Cluck, Cha, Wisk--R, Wisk.
Ic, quake-e-weet--R Cher.
Ic, Quake-e-Pipe--Tolloc Ic--Tolloc Ic Tolloc Ic--R Cher.
Fear, Fear, weet--Ejup, Pipe, Chow.
Pipe, Pipe, Pipe, Pipe--Ejup, Ejup, Ejup.
Ejup R--Lug, Ic, Ic, quake-e-weet.
Ic, Ic, R, Chow, Ic, Ic, R--Ic, Ic, quake, tyr, fear.
Most of these my own birds do. Several strains have been known of the
linnet, the best of which I believe was Wilder’s.
The method of raising is this. Get a good bird--as soon as _nestlings_
can be had, purchase four, or even six; put them in a large cage, and
feed them with boiled or scalded rape-seed, mixed with bread. This will
do till about three weeks old; then throw in dry seed, rape, flax, and
canary, bruised; they will pick it up, and so be weaned from the moist
food. You may then cage them off in back-cages, and hang them under the
old ones.
If you do not want the trouble of feeding them, buy them at a shop about
a month old, when they are able to crack the seed. Some persons prefer
_branchers_ to nestlings; these are birds caught about July. When they
are just able to fly among the trees, they are in some cases better than
the others; and invariably so, if they take your old bird’s song, being
stronger and steadier. Nestlings lose half their time in playing about
the cage.
As two heads are said to be better than one, so are two birds, therefore
he who wants to raise a strain, should get two good ones, about the end
of May--_stop_ one of them. This is done by putting your cage in a box,
just big enough to hold it, having a door in front to pull up. Some have
a glass in the door to enable them to see the birds; others keep them in
total darkness, only opening their prison to give them food and water.
The common way is to put the cage in the box, and close the door, by a
little at a time, daily, keeping it in a warm place. This is a brutal
practice, which I have never subscribed to, nor ever shall; yet it
_does_ improve the bird, both in feather and song. By the time he has
“moulted off,” the other bird will “come in” stout, and your young ones
will take from him; thus you will obtain good birds.
To render your birds tame, and free in song, move them about; tie them
in handkerchiefs, and put them on the table, or any where that you
safely can; only let their usual place of hanging be out of sight of
each other. Their seeing one another makes them fretful. To prevent
this, have tin covers over their water-pots.
The man who keeps birds _should_ pay attention to them: they cannot
speak, but their motions will often tell him that something is wrong;
and it will then be his business to discover what. He who confines birds
and neglects them, deserves to be confined himself; they merit all we
can do for them, and are grateful. What a fluttering of wings--what a
stretching of necks and legs--what tappings with the bill against the
wires of their cages have I heard, when coming down to breakfast; what a
burst of song--as much as to say, “Here’s master!”
Should any one be induced, from this perusal, to become a _fancier_, let
him be careful with _whom_, and _how_ he deals, or he will assuredly be
taken in. In choosing a bird, let him see that it stands up on its perch
boldly; let it be snake-headed, its feathers smooth and sleek, its
temper good; this you may know by the state of its tail: a bad-tempered
bird generally rubs his tail down to a mere bunch of rags. Hear the bird
_sing_; and be sure to keep the seller at a distance from him; a motion
of his master’s hand, a turn of his head, may stop a bird when about to
do something bad. Let him “go _through_” with his song uninterrupted;
you will then discover his faults.
In this dissertation (if it may be so called) I have merely given what
has come under my own observation; others, who are partial to linnets,
are invited to convey, through the same medium, their knowledge,
theoretical and practical, on the subject.