Brahms gave me the cold shoulder for two days. He slept at the far end of our cage and turned his back if I tried to make friends. I know he was cold; I was too. That made it difficult to sleep, but on top of that, when I did drift off, I was disturbed by strange whistling sounds from Brahms. He was awake all Christmas night. Every half hour, he would stretch and hum scales very softly. It seemed that his voice was back!
Well, as you know, Brahms's solo was a triumph and he has been asked to sing for the Grand Lodge of the Freebeagles for the Mid-Summer Fest! His performance stood out because his interpretation brought tears to the eyes of Grand Beagle Purcell, who in his youth had been a great exponent of the Beagle Song. 'No beagle,' he said, 'since the great howler Pavarotti himself, has used the whistle so eloquently.' He was very interested to know what had inspired Brahms. 'Well,' replied Brahms, 'it was my brother Bartok.' I withered under his gaze and wondered what was coming . 'If it wasn't for him,' Brahms went on, 'I wouldn't have tried to whistle the high notes - I would have howled them instead.' He paused and directed a furrowed brow in my direction. Here it comes, I thought. 'But Bartok made me think differently, when a sore throat shortened my register. The cloud, it would seem, turned out to have a silver lining.'
I'm glad we're friends again.
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