A Bird in the Hand - Joan Shepherd

When I was probably 7 or 8 years old, I begged Mother for the job of giving the canary its bath.This was a tricky task with an element of danger for the bird if it escaped.  Mother loved canaries, loved to hear them sing even if they interrupted Helen Trent , the soap opera she listened to. I got the job.

The bird seems a little apprehensive as I carry the cage to  the kitchen table which is protected with old newspapers.One can use an official bird bath, about a 4 inch oval ceramic dish or less sanitary but convenient, a cereal bowl from the cupboard. Filled with lukewarm water, it is placed some distance from the cage. Now comes he tricky part: Slide out the bottom of the cage making sure the bird is either on the swing or clinging desperately to the side. Holding the cage from the top or sides, quickly put the cage over the water dish and breathe a sigh of relief that the bird did not fly away in those seconds when escape was possible.

The bird may act as if he doesn’t know what is happening but then suddenly,  without any modesty, it will jump on the edge or into the bowl, flutter both wings in the  water,  splashing and  ducking their head into the water until satisfied they are clean and wet and maybe offer a short song of thanks. If left alone for a bit, the bathing may be repeated! 

The supervisor of the bird’s bath has not been idle during this procedure.The debris at the bottom of the  cage has been removed, fresh newspaper applied and sprinkled  with clean grit which the bird may later scratch and even eat before the next housecleaning and bath.

Then, the process getting Dicky Bird, as my mother seemed to name each of her canaries, the process is reversed but a little more threatening to an eight year old girl.The cleaned bottom tray has to be inserted into the cage giving a bit more time for the canary to escape. The good thing is that Dicky or Tweety is happy after the bath and looking forward to a treat which will be provided: a dandelion, a piece of lettuce or a slice of apple stuck between the wires of the cage. The bird will be happy as a clam.

Canaries spend a lot of time exploring their homes, even on the floor  where the grit  and newspapers are. If they live long enough, they might learn to read, but these birds are meant to sing their little hearts out for others to hear and enjoy. And when they have eaten enough lettuce or dandelions and sung until their vocal cords become stiff with age, they go to the bottom of the cage, lay down and die. That’s what Dicky Bird did and that’s where I found him and experienced my first contact with death –  unless you count the little turtle, about the size of a silver dollar with a painted palm tree in his shell. It wandered away when taken from his glass aquarium furnished with a few rocks, some fake and real plants, and a mayonnaise jar lid full of water. I assume the turtle died because it never came back for a bath.

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