Jessie the Bold

Each year that I breed canaries, I never fail to learn something new. This year I have been pleasantly surprised by a young American Singer canary I call Jesse.

Breeders of all canaries tell me how disappointing it is that fledging chicks regard humans with such fear. After all, canary eggs are routinely pulled and replaced with plastic eggs; when there is a full clutch, the real eggs are returned, ensuring that all the babies hatch on the same day. One week into incubation, the eggs are candled for fertility. On the fourteenth day, the clutch hatches. Each chick is banded about a week later. The chicks imprint on their parents as their eyes open on the tenth day, and after about 21 days, the chicks are usually ready to leave the nest.

As you can see, the eggs and chicks are handled quite frequently by the breeder. However, despite 200-plus years of canary breeding, the strong bond of imprinting on the parent birds results in very skittish fledglings. So, why is Jessie so friendly?

I had paired an experienced, fine-singing American Singer male, Cisco, to a perky young hen I'd named Molly. Both are variegated, dark green on yellow, so I expected fine singers in a mix of colors. Molly was the first hen to lay, a full week ahead of the other hens.

I didn't think Molly was to blame when she skipped laying an egg or two. I had been late setting up cages and providing the goodies to encourage breeding success. I pulled each freshly-laid egg, and replaced it with a dummy. On the fifth day, I returned four good eggs to the nest.

The next day, 2 eggs were gone. Cisco was pulled out nesting material, and there was yolk on the cage floor. I put Cisco in a smaller cage, alone. After a week, only one of the surviving eggs proved fertile. I put in two plastics eggs to "fill" the nest, and tossed the infertile one.

Many birds will not raise a single chick, or will stop feeding it later. For wild birds, it takes a lot of energy to raise only one chick, which a predator could later eat. I was not surprised, then, that Molly decided to renest after only 18 days. I pulled her one baby for handfeeding.

I was surprised at how readily this baby took to handfeeding. Usually, for a few days, an older chick must be force fed. Believe me, it's no fun trying to get a tiny morsel of food into a tightly clenched tiny beak, every hour, day after day! However, this fuzzy little bird ate heartily.

Then, suddenly, I knew we had a problem. The chick was reluctant to eat. It turns out that the batch of handfeeding mix I was using was bad. With antibiotics and another brand of handfeeding formula, he started feeding eagerly again.

I carried his small cage with me from room to room, so I could handfeed him at night. This little bird was rapidly winning my heart with his bright personality. All of my canaries have numbered bands, but I name my breeders. I knew that, male or female, I'd keep this bird. I started thinking of it as Jesse (or Jessie; at this point, it's too young for me to be certain).

Jessie is variegated like both his parents. He has a trait that all good American Singers must have: boldness. This is vital for a male in a show, who must willingly sing to strangers in a new setting; or, in a hen, who will aggressively raise her young. A few of my best mothers will "talk" to me; only today, one hen guided me to a tiny baby who'd fallen from her nest.

Jesse surprised me by boldness I'd never seen nor expected in a fledgling. At 18 days of age, when I started feeding him, he should have run from me after I'd released him. Instead, he eagerly perched on my hand. Soon, he began to ride around on my shoulder or lead, coming when I chirped; and, at night, would chirp contentedly under my chin as I read. As he began to fly, he visited other birds, and other rooms, always returning to me after a long, looping flight. I brought a large batch of fledglings into the living room, so that they would learn to feed on their own. Jesse began to investigate their cage. On impulse, I held the cage door open for him. Eagerly, Jesse stepped in and joined the bunch. I talked to him through the bars, but he seemed to be getting along. However, when those chicks settled down at night, Jesse insisted on coming out. He stayed with me that evening, chirping and nibbling on my fingers as if to tell me that he was only temporarily visiting those other birds.

Today, Jessie lives with those chicks. He has not forgotten me, though. He eagerly "attacks" my hand and bites my nails, and he is always the first to look into any dish. In fact, Jesse will "ride" a dish outside the cage, leap onto the cage top while I exchange dishes, and land on the rim of the new dish while I slide it into the cage.

What makes Jesse so bold? I know good breeding has a part in this, but this bird is too friendly! Perhaps Jessie was lonely as an only child of a single mom. I'm sure Jesse has tried to tell me his thoughts, but I can only guess what his little voice is saying. However, he seems content with his non-human companions, while taking the occasional spin outside of his cage to visit me.

Molly has since produced a second clutch of five babies in a rainbow assortment of colors. However, they are all "normal," and panic when I reach into the cage. I look forward eagerly to the day Jesse (or Jessie) becomes a parent. Right now, I enjoy the special friendship of a baby I helped raise.