WHISTLING TUNES

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22718, 2 November 1935, Page 21

WHISTLING TUNES

THE TRAINED BULLFINCH Although Europeans have known and trained and_ loved them for many years, piping bullfinches are new pets to most Americans (writes Peggy von der Goltz in the New York Herald-Tribune). We are all accustomed to the trained canary's 60iig; we no longer marvel at the parrot's human vocabulary. But to hear a little red-breasted bird scarcely larger than a canary, whistle the " Toreador Song" from " Carmen," or " The Bluebells of Scotland," or " Home to Our Mountains " is a surprise and a delight. The bullfinch's voice i 6 a small one, but it is as sweet and clear as the magic flute. The piping bullfinch is the most intensively trained pet in the world—even if you include sporting dogs and show horses, which are not truly pets. The piper has been carefully trained every day, lovingly, carefully, unfailingly, for months and months, possibly for more than a year. Since he must be trained in a quiet place where there are few distractions, and where he w - on't be tempted to imitate traffic noises and other mechanical sounds, the bullfinch is usuallv educated by solitary people—by retired postmen, old soldiers, and Government employees, who have seen all they want to see of the world, and by weavers who must sit all day at the looms. Such people find companionship in the boundless confidence and trust which the bullfinches have for all the world; and they make a profit on patience. TRAINING STARTS.

As soon as the youngsters are feathered and able to crack their-training starts. Each bird is placed in a separate cage, and fed on a small wooden platform that extends nil across the front of the cage. And every day—many times a day —the trainer stands in front of the cages and whistles, slowly, distinctly, the song he hopes the bird will learn. Not only must he whistle the same tune; he must whistle it in exactly the same way, with the same inflections, the same rhythm, each time. He must not whistle any other tune within the birds' bearing while they are being trained. And he must take great care to prevent the youngsters from hearing any unpleasant sound, for during their school days the bullfinches are distressingly clever mimics. The creak of a rusty hinge, the blare of a motor horn—any sound unpleasant to our ears—delights the young bullfinch. Hie own native song is composed of a collection of small squeaks, grunts, and rattles, and he would rather add to his far from musical vocabulary than learn to pipe a tune. Some trainers use photograph records in training pipers; but, while the tune is repeated exactly each time, the machine must be started and stopped at the very instant the music begins and ends: otherwise the birds will commence and finish with a perfect reproduction of the scratching sound of a phonograph needle. I owned such a bird once. He was a darling, and a grand piper; but he did scratch!