I shall never forget the day that I bought my first cardinals.
I stood in a Boston bird-dealer’s shop, looking about me at the great variety of birds. I knew but few of them by name, but I loved them all and wanted them all.
I was most anxious to have a talking minor—the glossy, dark bird that is the only one that will reply when spoken to.
On learning that he was twenty dollars, I said that I could not afford to get him.
A showy redbird that looked too big for his cage next impressed me. He had a black forehead and chin, a jaunty crest, and a vigorous air, and his every movement proclaimed the cruelty of imprisoning so active a bird.