Ten dollars on the green canary
How do Connecticans make canaries fight?
A drink makes the bird a little liverish and late-on-friday-night-feeling it seems.
Alternatively, show them Tweety cartoons on a continuous loop until they go berserk?
That is one suggestion from Connecticut Bob and his commenters, folk who are properly upset by the ill repute that the prize-fighting canary ring has brought upon their great state.
(Lest we get too sanctimonious about this, my learned friend Paul Blezard reminds us that it was long common to take canaries down our coal mines. When the cage-bird could no longer sing to the Maya Angelou tune, it was time to get out.)
Perhaps a real pet cat could help boost the avian fighting spirit. Or sing “Eye of the Tiger” to the little feathered pugilist?
Teach your bird to bob along with “Hair of the Dog”?
The illegal gambling ring - with birds and cash already for a good Connecticut night in - was actually discovered by police near Shelton's Dogwood Road.
176 Ripton, if you're thinking of a sightsee.
But who cares? One pet is much like another in cage-bird-fighting country.
Roosters make too much noise.
Dogs are too expensive.
Imaginative leaps too far?
And bears haven't been freely available in Hartford for some while.
I wonder if the Renaissance Italians, the men who pioneered the breeding of pet canaries, ever thought of a flutter on a 'green vs yellow' match.
According to the 1911 Encyclopaedia Britannica, the 'green' would normally be the better bet, being 'more robust' and closer to their cousins in the wild.
There is also a tip here for breeders. Put a male with five females and he always prefers the one he had sex with first.
But if you're looking for future champions, choose the eggs from his later conquests.
Gaol-birds, please note.