HOME | POLITICS | SPORTS | LIFE | SCI/TECH | OPEDS | HELPFUL TIPS
|
July 5, 2003 Frank is a parrot. He flew into my yard a year ago last February. I have two aviaries of cockatiels and parakeets. They are a noisy bunch which can attract many loose and carefree birds that finally get hungry and realize freedom is not all it is cracked up to be. So, they stop by my place to try to scrounge a free meal. Some of them I can catch, others become the “free meal” for my cats, and many just stop for a short visit then fly off to greener pastures. Frank was one of the really hungry ones. He was so hungry that he climbed down the tree, head down, one foot ahead of the other, flew over to over to a bush and hopped on plate of cockatiel seeds I held out to him. He stayed on the plate, scarfing up food while I carried him over to the cage, opened the door and plopped him in on the food tray. He sat there eating for a good 15 minutes before he quit and went down to the water dish for a long, cool drink. While he was eating I went in and got my book of Mexican birds and learned he was a Lilac Crowned Parrot which comes from the mountains of Southern Sonora, Mexico. I wondered if he could possibly be an illegal alien that flew across the border, but that evening at sunset he began to talk and talk and talk. I brought a chair into the cage and listened to him as he went on and on. He began to cluck like a chicken, whinny like a horse, mumble, mumble, mumble and screech like what I thought was a hawk. I could catch a word or two but they made no sense. I tried to find out where he had come from but could find no one who had lost a parrot. So, he became mine. I named him Frank because although I knew he was a Mexican, Pancho seems so uncouth and common like that notorious bandit, Pancho Villa and my Frank is such a handsome fellow. For the next few weeks I spent quite a bit of time with Frank, listened to him as he chattered away – always at sunset. I spoke some Spanish to him but there was no response. I could make out a few words like “what”. I figured out he was saying “What’s that you say?” and “Oh boy!” He was mumbling in English and I reasoned that whoever had owned him, kept him in a cage inside the house or a place where he could hear household conversations. The people also must have had chickens and a horse or two – probably a farm or ranch family. I discovered his former owners would get close to his cage to talk to him through the bars. They made kiss-kiss sounds that he responded to. He still responds much the same to me when I am on the outside of the cage, talking to him. He has learned to say, almost in my voice, “Hi, how are ya?” Seated inside the cage, I learned that he was never hand trained and is not a particularly affectionate bird. He gets on my lap when I feed him a cut tangerine. He loves them and slobbers juice all over my jeans. He has gotten on my shoulder a time or two when his cage mate Chula cockatiel flew up on my shoulder. I, also, quickly found out that Frank is a biter. Not a hard biter, but I’m not about to take any chances. He has a large and very strong beak! Made a big breakthrough tonight on Frank’s fractured English. After I had put supper on the stove, I decided to take a dip before dinner. It was sunset and Frank was muttering away in his usual jargon. I went over to the edge of the pool closest to his cage. He climbed down to the floor, began his chicken and horse routine then started mumbling the same phrase over and over again like he always did, this time ruffling his feathers before screeching. While watching his ridiculous display, I put the few words together that I knew he was saying. It finally dawned on me that someone from his former home was telling him or someone in the house to, “Look at the peacock!” Frank had been looking at and imitating a peacock. While on the floor of the cage he could ruffle his feathers just as peacocks do when they fantail and shake. Frank was unable to shake anything while on his perch. He would have lost his balance and fallen off. Any Useless Knowledge writer or reader, familiar with peacocks know they really put on an awesome display when in full feather and can let out ear-splitting screeches that can carry for very long distances. Farmers and ranchers, around the Yuma area, keep several of them for security measures. They are better guards than watchdogs and are just as fearsome. After finally translating Franks’s favorite phrase, I feel as though I can better understand what he is trying tell me. “You’re a smart bird Frank, and maybe, someday, I’ll discover more of your past history through our future conversations”. ------------ About the author: Bobbie Hart O’Neill is a retired print media journalist, CSU-Sacramento, ’74, with 40 years experience in the field. She has worked as a reporter, feature writer, columnist, public relations writer, magazine/newsletter editor and publisher. She is currently a freelance writer residing in Yuma, Arizona and has published a children’s book, written three screenplays and a novel. In addition, she is interested in civic affairs, politics, current events, ethnology and animals. Email Bobbie: bobbieo@digitaldune.net Comment on this column in the forum. Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
||||||
|
|
|||||||
|
