Yorkshire Lad: Birds Of A Feather
“…a friend of mine, Geoffrey Harker, out of the blue as it were, announced that in years gone by his mother’s uncle trained skylarks to sing. There’s a good show-stopper, rather on the lines of taking coals to Newcastle. Nevertheless it was true….’’ Tom Hellawell shares some avian reminiscences.
Rarely am I certain of the point in time when a topic or anecdote commences within general conversation.
So it was with a friend of mine, Geoffrey Harker, when one time, out of the blue as it were, he announced that in years gone by his mother’s uncle trained skylarks to sing. There’s a good show-stopper, rather on the lines of taking coals to Newcastle. Nevertheless it was true.
Many and various are the sports and pastimes undertaken by imaginative man, and presumably the training and development to concert pitch and the inter-songster competition was one such pursuit.
How the actual training was carried out I have no idea, but I learned that specially constructed cages were required. Rather than the squat, rectangular or round types in common usage, larks’ training cages were some three and a half feet in height by one foot square. The roof interior had need of a velvet lining, this to prevent damage to the head of the bird, since it is a natural trait for songbirds and their like to attempt to gain height from which to deliver their melody.
The considered disturbance of early morning tranquillity by farmyard roosters giving voice has at times been quelled by the simple means of confinement in smaller quarters. For the feathered songster, possession of lesser lodgings is nothing to crow about. It is the wide open spaces of which he considers himself lord of all he surveys. Thus, box him up and shut him up.
A further story regarding the vocal renditions of a vociferous cock bird comes courtesy of the Harker archives.
A private housing estate was built to within six feet of the boundary of a long-established smallholding. The new householders complained to the local council of the disturbance to rural tranquillity caused by the presence of farm stock!
Townspeople often do this, it seems, when the natural order is other than their idea of nature’s arrangement. It comes as a shock to them to find cows do not jump over the moon and Enid Blyton not only told fairytales but lies also.
The result in this case was that the farmer lost most of his stock by order of the council, being left with a few hens and a cockerel which claimed its presence with alacrity of vocal tone.
Further tenant demands to the council ensured the removal of the celebratory bird, but in that instance the council called a halt to further ejections by ruling that the stockholder had suffered sufficient loss and also the farm was one of long duration. Thus he was permitted to retain his existing poultry.
Enough was enough, however, for the ageing stockman, and he decided to sell up. He was also confident that a high price would be obtained for a bird which had beaten a bunch of townies and received the sympathies of a town council. A good price was achieved, although not as high as the owner would have wished. Fame can be fickle and short lived. Yet there was plenty to sing about for the cock bird.
One more anecdote concerning the feathery breeds comes again courtesy of Harker’s revelations.
A party of poultry fanciers -- of which the tale-teller was a member -- boarded a train en route for Leeds, where a poultry show was being held at the Corn Exchange. Once underway, one exhibitor produced from his carrying basket of intended exhibits a bird of the Barred Rock species, where colouring of the feathers ran in stripes over the carcass, the prime intention being to produce an exhibit with the neatest set of stripes. What was produced in the instance described here was a specimen which fell far short of such a goal, and the owner’s chances of a win were loudly and laughingly disclaimed by his travelling companions.
In the times of which I write, local trains usually consisted of individual compartments in the carriages and no corridors. Consequently there was a reduced chance of being disturbed, as the would-be pot hunter set to work in the preparation of his bird for exhibition. That consisted of making feathers fly in literal fashion.
By the end of the journey the completion of cosmetic work was finished. The fowl was in prime condition for showing, whilst the railway compartment was shrouded with feathers, those being the ones considered superfluous and detrimental to prize-winning standard.
Endeavours made by our virtuoso were not in vain. The bird took the prize. However, could the victory be claimed as being the result of ‘fowl play’?
