Bird Watching and Bird Sounds.

On Saturday, we went to a national park, in Singapore. It is one of several nature parks that cater to those who prefer a greener environment than the city can offer.

As we made our way out of the park, we caught sight of some birds - very beautiful birds. They had white crests on their heads, like mohican haircuts and they had this curious whistle. Tiarnan, twenty months, perked up at this and tracked the birds with his eyes. There were about five of them gathered to one side of the pathway.

They were making a lot of noise - whistling at each other, at first and then chattering in a rapid patter than sounded like laughter.

They flew from tree to tree, nearing the path on which we stood. The flight of the birds was oddly leisurely, a slow gentle flight, that seemed almost too slow to be effective. It was as if they floated from tree to tree. I am accustomed to seeing birds that fly fast - but these birds defied that expectation. They seemed to have all the time in the world to cross from tree to tree and teased us with the possibility that their flight might be too slow and that they might fall.

The birds flew across the path to our side - and Tiarnan followed them. But something changed - where there had been a non-stop chatter, now there was silence. The birds had simultaneously decided to be quiet: all of them at once.

Tiarnan looked up at the silent birds in the foliage and said: "The dooduts don't doodut!"

Now, I thought this a marvellous piece of word use. No-one had given a name to these birds, but their bird sound could be described as a "doodut". Tiarnan had coined an onomatopoeic word to describe the birds. For him they were the "dooduts" because they made a "doodut" sound. What is also interesting is the grammar he uses. This new word "doodut" operates as a noun - and as a verb - and he made the correct changes to the word to allow it to operate as a noun and a verb, in his sentence. It seems he is very aware of the rules for formation of nouns and verbs - and how they work.

Later, we learnt what the birds were called: "White-crested laughing thrushes". My wife and I thought this funny, too - because the scientists who had named the bird, did so for the same reason that Tiarnan had: by their sound. They were the white-crested laughing thrushes - and for Tiarnan they were the "dooduts" - much the same, when you actually know what Tiarnan is referring to. It seems he had picked up on their distinguishing characteristic, just as the scientists had.

I find it interesting that a child of twenty months - as Tiarnan is - can make up a new word to fit the situation. It is also telling that the word is apt - and is a recognizable description of the bird in question. They are, indeed, "dooduts" and they do go: "doodut". So, anyone who had experienced the birds would understand what Tiarnan was referring to. Thus, creativity in language use is quite possible, even at twenty months.

(If you would like to learn more of Ainan Celeste Cawley, a scientific child prodigy, aged seven years and ten months, or his gifted brothers, Fintan, four years and three months, and Tiarnan, twenty months, please go to: http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html I also write of gifted education, IQ, intelligence, College, University, Chemistry, Science, genetics, left-handedness, precocity, child prodigy, child genius, baby genius, adult genius, savant, gifted adults and gifted children in general. Thanks.)

Language School, Singapore: Tiarnan style.

Sometimes, my house is like a language school: the air is filled with the sounds of different languages, all competing for the attention of a baffled ear.

Such was it yesterday, but in a most entertaining way.

Tiarnan and Fintan had developed a different perspective over what should be the right name for various objects.

Fintan, four, pointed at a picture of a horse and said: "Horse."

Tiarnan, eighteen months, took exception to this: "Cuda!", he insisted, most fiercely in Malay.

Fintan didn't give up: "Horse." he repeated, again.

"Cuda!", shouted Tiarnan, with even more vigour, peering up at his towering brother, most indignantly.

Fintan evaluated the situation and said: "Cuda."

Tiarnan was pleased. His little tense body relaxed, letting his ire flow away. He had won, Malay it was to be.

Syahidah, their mother, had watched this scene unfold and, rather mischievously turned to Tiarnan and said: "Sit down."

This got him going. He flared up at once and turned on her: "Dudok!", he snapped, shouting the Malay for "sit down".

I found this interchange as informative as it was entertaining. Tiarnan is growing up bilingual in Malay and English. In this conversation, and in many others, he has shown a tendency to translate from one language to another, indeed, at times he seems an automatic translator. Given a word in one language, he will immediately give you the corresponding word in the other language. He is right everytime in his matching. What is revealing here, is that he has clearly developed a preference for Malay - and insists on defending his favoured language from the incursion of English (which he also speaks and understands anyway).

It might come down to the fact that his mother is Malay Singaporean and spends more time with him, than I am able to. Maybe he is, therefore, standing up for his mother. Sweet boy.

(If you would like to read more of Tiarnan, eighteen months, or his gifted brothers, Ainan Celeste Cawley, seven years and eight months, or Tiarnan, eighteen months, please go to: http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html I also write of gifted education, IQ, intelligence, child prodigy, child genius, baby genius, adult genius, savant, the creatively gifted, gifted adults and gifted children in general. Thanks.)