When I was around four years old, my parents bought me Crispin, my first pet. He was a handsome yellow canary with a bad temper and an alpha male personality. He would spend hours preening, and I found him enchanting.
A Canary Family
Soon after, a gentle female canary named Mariflor arrived. She became Crispin's partner and the mother of their chicks, Maribel and Quintin. Having a canary family compensated for my lack of siblings and extended family, giving me a sense of responsibility and filling my life with joy.
Every day, I would let the canaries out of their cage to roam freely around the flat. Crispin's favorite spot was the globe in my bedroom. Standing imposingly, he would regularly give his opinion on global affairs by pooping on countries whose governments he disapproved of. At least, that's how it seemed to me as a child. It was the 1980s, the time of the Cold War, and my parents, political exiles from the Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet, had temporarily settled in Venezuela.
Diet and Magic Transformations
My canaries' diet included seeds, mango, papaya, red pepper, lettuce, and spinach. After eating red pepper, Crispin's plumage would bizarrely turn orange. These magical transformations truly amazed me.
An Exceptional Singer
Crispin was an exceptional singer, often performing perched above a ceiling light. He excelled at karaoke to classical music, with Mozart's flute concertos and Camille Saint-Saëns' The Carnival of the Animals among his favorites. Impressively, Crispin could recognize the final notes and stop singing at the exact moment the music finished.
Crispin would take singing requests from me. Telling him he was the world's most talented, intelligent, and gracious canary almost always resulted in delightful serenades. However, it wasn't so delightful when I needed to practice my violin. As a little bird with a big ego, he did not accept another musician at home and would work hard to be louder than me, even if I was playing in another room.
The Family Diminishes
Crispin's family gradually diminished. When Quintin became an adult, we had to find him new owners as father and son had started to become aggressive with each other. Mariflor and Maribel died of old age several years after we all moved to Chile. Crispin stopped singing and developed arthritis. He died peacefully when he was 20, a remarkable age for a canary.
A Lasting Legacy
Were Crispin alive today, he would probably still be pooping on my old globe, spoiled for choice about where to aim his disapproval, given the state of world affairs. I'll always be thankful for Crispin – he showed me the value of being bold and colorful.
