SOME may object to our placing the Canary amongst our English singing birds, but surely it belongs as much to England as to any other country in Europe; and it has become such a universal pet that we may fairly claim it as one of ours. And well does it deserve to be such a favorite. You all know how gentle and winning are its little ways; how beautiful its plumage and how charming is its song. I need not tell you it is not found in a wild state in England, nor indeed in any part of Europe, but it is one of the most valued and cheerful inmates in nearly every home. Now, let me tell my young friends a little of the Canary's history. If you get an atlas and look near the west coast of Africa, you will find a cluster of islands called the Canary Islands. Here, originally, was their home. And a beautiful one it is. The temperature is most delightful, the soil is so fertile as to produce, with scarcely any toil, several crops of grain during the year; the most delicious fruits everywhere grow wild, and altogether they are said to be the most charming places in this poor world. About the year 1330, these islands were first discovered by a French vessel being driven ashore in a storm. Fifty years after, the Spaniards, who at that time were amongst the most powerful, enterprising, and warlike nations in the world, attempted to settle on some of these islands, and in about one hundred years more they took possession of the whole group, and have held them ever since.
Nearly all these islands are full of the richest and most beautiful valleys in the world, and these were the original homes of our pretty little Canaries. How then have they got so widely spread? Well, just about three hundred years ago, a ship was bound for Leghorn from these islands, but when off Elba, near to Italy, it was wrecked and driven ashore. A large number of Canaries formed part of her freight, which by some means got free and settled in the island. They would soon have spread over the whole of it, but the beauty of their plumage, and the richness of their song, made them such favorites with the people of the island, that the whole number were speedily caught and placed in cages; and from that time the Canary began to spread over nearly the whole world.
But naturalists tell us the Canary has greatly changed since it left its native home. It is larger and not so slender, and its plumage has greatly altered. As most of you see and hear the Canary in its captive state every day, I am sure you would like to hear something about his little ways and his song, just as he is in his native home, and as you could see and hear him to-day, if you were in those beautiful Canary Islands, where great numbers of them are still to be found. A writer who has been there, and has written a great book about them, tells us the Canary is principally to be met with in such places as are covered with wood or shrubs, near springs of water, also in the gardens and houses of the inhabitants, and is quite as numerous in crowded cities as in the quietest nooks. The color of the wild Canary is very difficult to describe, owing to the delicacy with which the different shades are blended, but its prevailing colors are green and gray. They live upon green herbs, small seeds, and delicate juicy fruits which abound so plentifully in those islands. A fig tree, when the fruit is perfectly ripe, is a beautiful sight when covered by the various singing birds, the blackbird, greenfinches, tomtits, and many others, in variegated confusion, all feasting on the dainty food, in common with our friend the Canary.
Water is essential to its welfare, as it drinks much, and is fond of bathing. They begin to build about the end of March, generally on a pear or pomegranate tree. The nest is broad at the base, very narrow at the top, with a tiny little entrance. It is formed of snow-white wool, woven together with a few blades of grass. The eggs are of a pale sea-green, spotted with reddish brown, indeed exactly like those of the tame bird with us. The Canary usually breeds four times in the year, but occasionally only three. The same writer describes in glowing terms the song of the male bird. "During the period of incubation he perches upon a tree near his mate, and from thence delights her with his song of encouragement and sympathy. It is a real pleasure to listen to this pretty songster, as it inflates its throat and pours forth its lay, turning as it sings from one side to another, as if it would bathe its glowing breast in the flood of bright sunshine. All at once it hears the call of its little companion, and darts with responsive tenderness to perch at her side. Indeed, in our opinion, this modestly attired bird, as it sits surrounded by all the varied and delicious blossoms of its native trees, is a far more attractive spectacle than its more brightly colored and elegant brother, with whose appearance in captivity we are all so familiar.”
The Canary with us, as we all know, is a most sociable bird. It is the same in its wild state, and on this account it is easily captured in great numbers.
The Canary in Europe, however, knows nothing of all this freedom and fruit, and beautiful wood and valley, in which to roam, and sing its sweet song. It is doomed to a life of captivity, yet it is such a dear friend to all, that every one delights to make it happy.
The breeding of Canaries in England and on the Continent has long been a great branch of business. In some villages in Germany, almost every house has its breeding room; many thousands are reared every year, sent off for sale to many parts of the world, especially Russia, Europe, and America. The Canary is well known to be a most docile pupil, and will learn to exhibit its skill by spelling words that are repeated to it, selecting the letters in proper order from an alphabet laid before it: it has been taught to add up, to multiply or divide figures by the assistance of numbers given it to choose from. Others will sing when commanded, pretend to fall dead when a pistol is fired, then allow them selves to be laid on a little car, to be carried to the grave by two other Canaries, and when the journey is accomplished, will jump up and sing a lively song. But all such little tricks, as with dogs, horses, and all other creatures, are only taught by keeping them without food, and the infliction of much cruelty.
Strange stories have been told by some writers about Canaries learning to talk. Many years ago one was exhibited in London. One of many thousands who saw it says, "It was an exceedingly fine bird, of beautiful plumage, and the history of its singular power was thus given by its exhibitor. This Canary had been as usual, in the family room, when it was suddenly heard to speak, and to repeat what it had uttered, and it was not long before its number of words became much enlarged; the words being distinctly sounded in the midst of its song. There appeared to have been no teaching of the bird; its power of imitation was spontaneously exercised. It distinctly uttered the words, `Mary,' ‘Dicky dear,' ‘O pretty dicky dear,' and 'Pretty queen.' Five hundred guineas were said to have been offered for the Canary, but in a few weeks it was dead,' " Mr. Lotheby has described another talking Canary. "Its parents had previously reared many young ones, but one year they hatched only one out of four eggs. This they immediately neglected, and began to build a nest upon the top of it. The unfledged bird, almost dead, was taken away, restored, and then brought up by hand. It was constantly talked to, and not having heard the notes of any other bird, when it was about three months old, it astonished its mistress by repeating the tender terms used in speaking to it, such as ‘Kissie kissie,’ with its significant sounds. This went on, and from time to time the little bird repeated other words, until for hours together, it would ring the changes, according to its own fancy, and as plain as any human voice could utter them, on such words as 'Dear, sweet Titchie,' (its name) 'Kiss Minnie,' ‘Kiss me then, dear Minnie,' `Sweet, pretty little Titchie,' &c., &c.”
The Canary will also imitate other birds, especially the Nightingale. It has been taught to whistle very clearly the first bar of the National Anthem.
I am sure I can ask all my young readers to be kind to the captive Canary. He seems always cheerful and happy, and, with his merry song, does his best to make others as happy as himself. God has told us there is a time near at hand, when this earth shall be no longer a desolation, but when it shall blossom like the rose. What a time that shall be when every valley and every hill shall be alike beautiful; when birds, and beasts, and flowers, and fields, and little children, and men, and women, shall form one harmonious scene of peace and joy; when praise and thanksgiving to God shall ascend from every living creature, and the Lord Jesus will reign from one end of the earth to the other! That will be a blessed time for this world when, in its full sense, "the time of the singing of birds" shall have come.