Originally appeared in the December 1938 issue of the National Geographic Magazine
This Web version COPYRIGHT 2004
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PET BIRDS SHARE
CAMPS OF SAVAGES Although the canary is the most popular, thousands of persons delight in the companionship of many other kinds of small birds. Birds as pets are found with the most primitive of people. Around any aboriginal hunter's camp one may see live birds of various kinds, ordinarily young ones that have been picked up in the wild after the parent birds have been killed or on chance encounters. Often these birds live in a state of complete freedom, wandering in and out of tents or huts at will and securing much of their own food. Eventually some may be eaten, some may return presently to the wild, while others live content with the companionship of man. It is such circumstances, without question, that led, hundreds of years ago, to the domestication of the fowl, turkey, duck, goose, and pigeon, which now have such great value in the the of man.
A FEW FEATHERED PERSONALITIES In various tropical countries I have seen many semidomesticated birds – parakeets that flew or climbed in and out of native houses; strange, large-headed plovers known as "thick-knees," kept in patios to eat the cockroaches; and little native sparrows that skipped in and out of doorways to search for crumbs. I recall also the scores of wild birds that I kept for study and as pets around a little field laboratory on the Bear River Marshes in Utah. A California gull that I cured of a sickness became as tame as any domestic fowl, though it lived at freedom. A young great blue heron that grew enormously came at evening to rest on my knee and to poke curiously with its long bill at my glasses. A Canada goose with deformed wing feathers accepted me as an equal three days after its capture and followed me constantly like a dog. With these were hundreds of wild ducks of a variety of kinds, some of which fed from my hand and then returned voluntarily to their pens.
A PRIVATE AVIARY AND ITS BIRDS The country home of my friend Jean Delacour is found at Cleres in the north of France. The chateau, located in a little valley, is surrounded by broad lawns. Beyond are spacious meadows through which meanders a little stream, and behind the house are the vine-clad ruins of an older building dating back hundreds of years. Several conservatories, crowded with tropical plants grown in moist atmosphere under glass, form the homes of scores of little birds of kinds seldom seen in captivity because of the difficulty of keeping them without special provision for their maintenance. A dozen kinds of brilliant hummingbirds dart back and forth through open windows from the shaded greenhouses to outdoor flights cnclosed by wire where they enjoy the sun. With them are even more brilliant sunbirds from the Orient, tropical orioles, bright-colored pittas, and dozens of other small birds, all living in evident health and happiness. |
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As I walked through, one afternoon last May, I heard constant outbursts of song from birds familiar as museum specimcns, but whose songs and calls were entirely new to me.
On a slope beyond, I found a row of gaudy, long-tailed macaws living in the open air, chained to poles in such a way that they could climb about with ease. A pair or two flew about completely free.
Among the trees covering the hill above the house are extensive aviaries filled with birds of many kinds. Here I saw lories and other strange and curious parrots from various tropical lands, an unusual jay from the Ryukyu Islands of Japan, flycatchers from South America, yellow-billed magpies and mountain bluebirds from California, and scores of unusual birds from other parts of the world, living here in spacious, shrub-grown quarters side by side. Many were nesting and rearing young.
As we strolled about, viewing strange birds at every turn, a white mother gibbon came down from the trees to walk along the top wire of a high fence, with arms extended to maintain her balance. Her two black babies, less sure of themselves, scampered along the wire mesh beneath her. Other gibbons lived in the tall trees of two islands in a little lake, where their antics as they swung through the branches were most amusing. Formerly all had ranged at freedom, but this had to be checked when the band began visiting the church in the village to ring the bell at inopportune times.
The lake, the stream, and the meadows were filled with waterfowl. Geese of a dozen kinds, a screamer from Argentina, long-legged cranes, and curve-billed ibises stalked about in the grass. Dozens of ducks of many varieties, including such difficult species as eiders and shovellers, swam in the water, and flocks of flamingos waded in the shallows. Across a road were sheltered, fenced pools for other waterfowl. The entire collection was one to equal that of any zoo.
