I had canaries too – eight of them in separate cages along the hallway leading to the small music room containing the piano that had belonged to my father. Each dawn when I had arisen and was about to commence the day by playing Bach at my father’s piano, I would be greeted by their song. They would start singing the moment they heard my footsteps on the stairs, and they would continue their chorus while I played. Sometimes it seemed to me that I was their accompanist.