he was startled by a whistled tune. It was a bright-sweet melody, a fragment beautiful and familiar. It took Mozart a wondering moment to recover from the shock of hearing the refrain, but when he did, he followed the song. The whistles repeated, leading him down the block and through a bird vendor’s open shop door. There, just inside, Mozart was greeted by a caged starling who jumped to the edge of his perch, cocked his head, and stared intently into the maestro’s eyes, chirping warmly. This bird was flirting!
“May 27, Graben Street. . . . [stopping] on the bustling roadside, . . . [Mozart] was startled by a whistled tune. It was a bright-sweet melody, a fragment beautiful and familiar. It took Mozart a wondering moment to recover from the shock of hearing the refrain, but when he did, he followed the song. The whistles repeated, leading him down the block and through a bird vendor’s open shop door. There, just inside, Mozart was greeted by a caged starling who jumped to the edge of his perch, cocked his head, and stared intently into the maestro’s eyes, chirping warmly. This bird was flirting!”
