My Grandmother was a virtuoso whistler, improvising all manner of melodies, trills and bird songs constantly at her daily housework. I remember her having dialogues with blackirds in the garden. She picked up on Alessandro Alessandroni's wistling in Morricone's scores, and could give Ronnie Ronalde and Roger Whittaker a run for their money, but she made nothing of it beyond her personal amusement. I really wish I'd recorded her. I can barely whistle a note, and admire those who can.