Another day the robins were very much frightened by an English sparrow coming to the hospital. If it had been a large hawk, they could not have acted worse. A man brought him, who had taken him away from a cruel boy who was just ready to give him to his cat. I looked him all over, and, when I found he was not injured in any way, I knew it would not be right to keep him. I would have liked to, as he reminded me so much of Mack. When I opened the window, he flew out, chirping loudly, and I have not a doubt he told his friends many tales of his narrow escape, about the place where he had been, and the things he had seen.
One day a little girl three years old came to visit me. As she stood in the door looking at the birds, she certainly looked like a fairy direct from Fairyland, all dressed in white, with the whitest skin, cheeks like the pinkest roses, blue eyes like wood-violets, and curls like thebrightest of gold. But Bobbinette and Bobby did not appreciate the picture, for they never were more frightened in their lives, and it was hours before they became used to her.
Dona Marina always knew when it was five o’clock, and time for Bobbinette and Bobby to have their supper of cracker and milk, and she would bring Blonde and Brunette and sit down in front of me, while Bobbinette and Bobby perched on the edge of the box, and I would give them each a piece as well as the birds. Then I taught them to sit up on their haunches like little bears and eat their crackers.
Blonde would often take her piece in one paw and eat it, and Brunette would take hers in both paws and put it into her mouth, while Dona Marina would sit up very straight with her little paws bent, and look first at one kitten, then at the other in a very proud way.
Now Bobbinette and Bobby havereached the dignity of having a little doll’s table and a chair of their own. They will stand up on their chairs and eat whatever I give them off of little butter-plates. If a meal worm is served, it is as good to them as a turkey dinner is to any of us.
Bobby was much more precocious with his singing than Cady. I worked many weeks with Cady before he would make a sound, but Bob began at once and has improved every day since.
One day late in the fall I took him down just to see if he would be afraid of the piano, but he was not in the least, and began to sing very softly. I meant to have looked up some new music for him, but he was ready before I was, so I began with the same old things Cady sung, and he seemed to like them just as well as Cady did. I have added to his repertoire that pretty little waltz song, “Love Comes Like a Summer Dream,†from the old opera, “LittleTycoon,†another waltz song, “I am Going Far Away, Love,†two parts from “When the Leaves Begin to Fall,†and a sweet lullaby.
A friend, who is a professional singer, came to hear him sing. I said to her: “I want you to listen to every note and tell me honestly just what you think of him.†He sang for a half-hour, only stopping while I changed the music. When we finished, she said: “I do not know which is the most marvellous, the pupil or the teacher. He is simply wonderful, never makes one discord, keeps perfect time, and carries the air as near as possible, and the little trills he puts in are simply bewitching.â€
The lullaby he sings as soft and low as I do. What kind of a singer I am going to make of Bobbinette, time alone can tell. She will sing with me a little every morning up-stairs, but only twice have I been able to get her to sing down-stairs. I bring her down every day afterBob has had his singing lesson. Although she is such a fighter, she is very timid and nervous when down-stairs if there is any one there. She usually comes down on my shoulder, and I can feel every nerve in her body quiver as I lay my cheek against her.
When Bobbinette appears, Bob knows his lesson is over and that he can do as he pleases. He will go all over both rooms, perch on anything he sees fit, sing a little in a very low voice, come and look at Bobbinette and stand beside her on the perch. I have not given up getting them to sing a duet together. When Bobbinette sings up-stairs, Bob stops short, stands on one leg, and listens to her with a look as much as to say: “What are you trying to sing for? I am the singer.â€
As Bobbinette is a good listener, I still have hopes of her. She is so pretty and still keeps her baby look, and when she listens she cocks her head on oneside and looks so interested, and will puff out her breast and open her bill as wide as she can. For a treat after their lesson, they have some sugar wafers. They prefer the champagne ones, as they have more chocolate in them. They get on my shoulder and take the wafer out of my mouth. Then they have milk (which they love) in a whiskey glass. Some days they have two or three Zante currants, of which they are very fond.
My mother has all of her meals served in the back parlour, and it is a great treat for Bobbinette and Bobby to have their singing lesson before luncheon, then they stay down until afterward.
They will not make friends with any one but me, but they will get as near my mother as they dare, and see what she has to eat, but will not take anything from her.
I was very much frightened the other day to see a hair sticking out of Bobbinette’s bill. I was more frightenedwhen I pulled out an eighth of a yard and could get no more, as it seemed to be wound around the lower part of her tongue. It was rather a difficult task to hold the bird, take a magnifying glass, and open the bill and look down. After a half-hour’s work at the hair, gently pulling it from side to side, it became loose and came out. The next day Bob came to me holding one leg up. As I looked at him, I thought he in some way had gotten a rubber band around his leg. You can imagine my surprise, when I took him in my hand, to find, instead of a rubber band, his hind claw was wound around his leg and caught with the nail. How it ever got that way, I have not the least idea.
As I entered my room the other afternoon, I saw a picture that any artist might have been proud to paint. Dona Marina was lying stretched out full length on the foot of my bed, with her new baby kittens, Scozza and Fava, lyingbeside her; all were in Dreamland. On the brass rod at the foot perched Bobbinette and Bobby, the latter singing at the top of his voice, while Bobbinette listened.
I feel sure if John Burroughs knew my birds, he would change his mind about birds not thinking and reasoning.
Many people know birds and their habits in a wild state, but really know nothing of them as pets in the house.
I am told Mr. Burroughs does not advocate domesticating wild birds; neither do I, if they are old, well, and strong, but, on the contrary, if they are injured, and are only easy prey for small boys and cats, I firmly believe in taking them in and making them happy, which I think I have always succeeded in doing.
I have often taken birds in, expecting to let them go when they were large enough, but they simply would not, for they knew they would not know how totake care of themselves or hunt their food. For instance, if I had not brought Bobbinette and Bobby in, they would have been killed, and it would be very cruel to turn them out now after the luxurious lives they have lived for eleven months; besides, they are perfectly well, and happy as the day is long, and know no other life.
My pets are a great care, but the pleasure I receive from them more than recompenses me. I only hope you will all be so interested in my little sketches that you will “cry for more,†and then I shall be able to stop your crying.
THE END.
Pleasant Street SeriesNew Edition, 1906flower1 Pleasant Street, Smiling ValleyBySarah E. Lee2 Home Songs for Little Darlings3 SmilesByAlice Lewis Richards4 WinksByAlice Lewis Richards5 Under the Nursery Lamp6 The Moon PartyByOllie Hurd Bragdon7 Bobby and BobbinetteByAnnie R. Talbot8 Little Mildred’s SecretByGrace Squires9 Tale of Two Terriers, Crib and FlyByCharles Welch10 The Bird HospitalByCaroline Crowninshield Bascom11 The Wishbone BoatByAlice C. D. Riley
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