ISSN 1492-8132
Issue 78, © 2003
No reprints without permission

Thanks to the interest shown by visitors, there are some great deals available here to bird owners, from small and large pet cages, to breeding cages, stands, and some great flight cages!

The folks at Bird & Cage Co have made it their goal to provide birdkeepers with a great selection of quality cages for great prices - and if you live in the continental US, there's an even nicer bonus - for now at least, shipping is free!

See Robirda's reviews of these cages.

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Our CD of Robirda's canaries singing is proving to be a popular choice for many people, both for themselves or as a gift. In the year we have offered this CD for sale, we have received a great deal of positive feedback from our customers, and heard very little on the negative side. Here's just a few of the comments we've received:

"Quick delivery, Awesome CD, even better than I expected! Super transaction!"

"The cd is so lovely, cute, uplifting... I could go on and on! Just listening to your little critters makes me smile... one little guy makes a squeak... then another a gurgle, then one by one they start warbling until it's a symphony of sweet, varied songs."

"Just received the Songs from the Birdroom CD - the birds are enjoying it tremendously - our cockatiel is telling them to 'be quiet'!"

"Wonderful!! Professional, shipped with lightning speed. GREAT CD... RECCOMMEND!"

Learn more about our Song CD

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This issue continues the story of King Henry, elder canary. We hope you enjoy it! Our next issue is due Sept 28th - 'til then, we hope you and your birds stay well and happy, and enjoy the fall weather. We look forward to seeing you all then!

Robirda
Sept 14, 2003

It's here! Brats in Feathers, Keeping Canaries is now available in print! This special edition combines the two Brats ebooks into a beautiful and useful book packed with all the information and fantastic photos from the ebooks. It has been reformatted especially for print, resulting in a 7 by 8.5 inch book printed with special long-lasting colour-fast inks.

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Feature Story

This issue continues the story of how this old canary gained a new interest in living, going on to live a long, full life.

by R C McDonald
www.robirda.com
Copyright © 1996-2003

Leader of the Pack

Once Henry was used to the new arrangement in his old cage and was moving about easily, I moved him to a slightly larger cage. This one was the same basic shape, but larger by an inch or so in all its dimensions. It had been sitting empty next to his cage for a week before I put him into it.

While he had a bit of trouble adapting to the longer hops required to get from perch to perch, he didn't seem too upset by the move, on the whole, and soon began to practice flying a little before landing. He was singing on a regular basis now, after more than two years of silence in his old home.

I noticed one day that he had definite preferences about the music on his radio. Most classical music would elicit a few low trills and chirping murmurs. Country and western elicited more of a response, especially the more lively tunes.

But if you really wanted to see Henry come to life, tune in to a loud, raucous fully electrified rock and roll. He'd get so enthusiastic, leaning forward and warbling for all he was worth, that sometimes he'd lean too far and end up standing down on his hay, still singing his head off.

Once his quarantine period was over, Henry moved into the livingroom, where he had a mixed assortment of neighbours. Next door to him lived some splendid parakeets, looking for a good home after their mom had decided that they were too much trouble to care for.

They eventually got one, too, but not until Henry had learned to copy their copy-cat version of a canary's trill - a funny little buzzing tune. Months after they'd gone off to their new homr I'd suddenly hear splendids, and turn around to find Henry busily looking as innocent as possible, slyly peering out at me from under his crest.

A little further over was a cockatiel who'd been too loud and demanded too much of his previous owner. He loved to ride around on my shoulder and look down and say, "That looks good! Mmmm! That looks very very good!"

He hadn't said more than "pretty bird" ever before, his previous owner assured me, and I was puzzled as to where he'd picked it up. He'd begun saying it around a week after he'd been allowed out of the quarantine room and had more access to the rest of the house (and my shoulder).

Then one morning I actually heard what I was saying as I finished cleaning each cage with Shay on my shoulder. As I was fastening the doors on a freshly - renewed cage I was murmuring "There ya go, that looks good. Mmm, that looks very good..."

Shay was fascinated by Henry and would amble over when allowed out of his cage, standing near Henry's cage while examining him. Henry wasn't too sure he liked this much attention and became rather stiff at first; but as Shay clowned and chattered indiscriminately for the whole room he relaxed and began to participate in the general chatter.

Over in the far corner of the room, beyond the tiny space reserved for people (the couch) was a large flight cage full of young canaries. Henry was fascinated by their antics and spent most of his unoccupied time watching them.

It wasn't long before he had the whole room in full chorus whenever he started singing. It'd start with the cheerful little tra-la-la with which he started his song, then a bunch of youngsters would begin singing along, trying the feel of all the different sounds they could produce, learning which ones sounded more like Henry. The splendids would add their notes to the medley, while Shay added the burbling, chortling notes that are a cockatiel's 'happy' song.

As for Henry, he proceeded to learn a rather good version of a cockatiel song himself, and began to 'sing' it at Shay whenever he came over on one of his visits.

He certainly didn't look or sound much like the bird who'd looked to be nearing death's door a year previously! He bathed regularly, and his feathers were immaculate. He ate a varied diet, attacking his food with enthusiasm. But he still wouldn't accept a larger cage.

A Bird With Notions

I had managed in three long stages to coax him up to a ten inch by twelve inch by sixteen inch cage. From there he refused to budge. If I put him in a larger cage, he sulked and refused to eat until I returned him to the cage he preferred. For two years he lived in this cage.

Although I used the same tactics that had worked previously of letting him get used to seeing the larger cage and having it nearby before I moved him into it, he was having nothing to do with anything but the cage he now considered his.

I finally left the option with him by use of a pop-hole. This is a marvelous device, and every canary aviary should make use of them.

Canaries are territorial little creatures, and the males will try to own all the space they can. In a flight cage, too many males in the same cage will end up in a struggle for dominance. But if the flight actually consists of two or three flights connected by pop-holes to allow inter-cage access, given that the birds aren't in breeding condition, the problem just doesn't happen. As long as there is somewhere to retreat to the aggressor will usually be content to drive the unwanted bird away from his general vicinity and be satisfied with that.

In Henry's case, I connected his precious house to a small flight cage by removing two side doors and clothes-pegging the two cages together door-to-door. If Henry did decide he wanted some more space, all he had to do was hop over and take it.

It seemed to take slightly short of forever before he took to sitting by the pop-hole looking through into the other cage. It was more than a few days after that before he actually ventured through, but once he did, there was no stopping him. He stood on the nearest perch, the one just a short hop from the pop-hole, and flapped his wings mightily. For days more he did this until he could easily hover over the branch.

Then one day he took off. He flew over to the other side of the three and a half foot flight, landed, bounced a couple of times, apparently for no reason but that he could, turned and flew back again. From that moment on he never once looked at his old house again. Henry had his very own mansion!

He has been sharing my life now for almost six years. His first family and I guess his age to be around fourteen and a half years or perhaps even older. He has been shedding years all the way if you go by appearance and attitude.

He now plays like a youngster when he isn't singing. He regularly 'grooms' his hay for that yummy pollen and those finicky little dried-grass seedheads that he so adores, and flies merrily about in his mansion for the sheer fun of it. He has a bath every other day or so, and thoroughly enjoys splashing about.

His favourite toy is a small plastic hanging toy made of concentric circles, each rotating on a different axis, one inside the other. He spends quite a lot of time poking at and tugging on this. The other, of course, is his old standby, his swing. He loves to pump madly and then have a little sing while his swing is winding down.

And can that bird sing! Good song canaries are constantly adding to and improving their songs, and Henry is no exception. He has one of the most complex, sweetly phrased songs I have ever heard. He is a very good mimic, too. Besides the splendid and the cockatiel songs that he picked up, he has learned to whistle exactly like my teakettle. Sometimes I suspect he finds it fun to send me scuttling into the kitchen only to find the kettle still cold!

His first family calls a couple of times a year to report on their own bird (who has completely stolen their hearts) and to inquire on Henry's progress. They have been as impressed as I have by his tenacious transformation. They are quick to assure me, too, what a difference the care regime I taught them has made in how their new canary lives, regularly telling me how often he surprises them with his interest in and responsiveness to them.

Most of my customers and friends have met Henry, and he has garnered a wide group of admirers among them. Some call regularly just to see how he's getting on, and all have been impressed with his undauntable spirit. He impresses everyone who hears him with the vitality and beauty of his song, to the point where we all agreed that Henry is indeed a King among canaries.

Ask any one of us, and we will all tell you, "Hail King Henry, may he Live Forever!"

March 3, 1996

Postscript

In all, Henry lived with me for a month less than eight years. He never lost his cheerful attitude unless he was removed from the sight and sound of the other birds. On these rare occasions, he became quiet and withdrawn until he was returned to the vicinity of the company he so plainly loved.

Of all the lessons Henry taught me, perhaps the biggest is that even male canaries cannot live happily in a void. One and all, independent by nature though they are, canaries, like all other living things, need to know their position in life relative to the other beings in their lives.

Henry's last day on this earth began like any other. He had been slowly becoming less active over the last couple of months, and I had allowed him access to a smaller cage, into which he had promptly moved.

While moving about less, he still sang regularly, and his appetite and drinking habits were good. He had taken to spending a large part of his day sitting quietly where he had a good view of the cage where the youngsters lived.

He would watch their play with his little eyes shining out from under his crest, gazing on these playful, boisterous youngsters with an almost possessive pride. It was obvious that to him, these were his youngsters.

When I arrived home from work that afternoon, I saw that he had apparently not moved at all that day. His seed and water were untouched and his greens had wilted where they lay. Worried, I picked him up and offered him some water.

"Come on, old man", I murmured, my voice catching, "you're not going to give up now, are you? C'mon, have just a little drink..."

He tilted his head away from the water and gazed calmly up at me in a clear gesture of refusal. Frantic, I began to try again to convince him to drink, but this time he tried to sing to me. There was almost no volume; his breath escaped with just the faintest echo of the thrilling sweet phrases he had used with such precise abandon.

My breath caught in surprise and wonder - for while Henry had been accustomed to treat me as affectionately as any royalty might treat a treasured servant, still he had never before acknowledged me in such a manner. He almost seemed to smile as he gazed up at me in that second; and then his head lolled back loosely, and I knew that Henry had finally left this life behind.

It was May 16th, 1998, at 6:15 pm. He was at least 16 years old; the equivalent of 120 years of age, in human terms.

Hail King Henry, may his memory live forever!...

by R C McDonald
www.robirda.com
Copyright © 2003