Cassell's book of birds; vol. 1

by Alfred Edmund Brehm

Next to a safe sleeping-place, the presence of trees thickly crowned with foliage is an essential requisite for the comfortable lodgment of parrots; this they require, not so much as a protection against the weather, as for a secure hiding-place. Of all things they like warmth, nevertheless they do not absolutely avoid a cool temperature, and still less are they afraid of wet, at least for a time.

COLLARED PARROT (Palæornis torquatus).

"During the heavy tropical rain-storms that sometimes darken the air," says the Prince von Wied, "it is not uncommon to see parrots sitting motionless upon the dead branches at the very top of a tree, uttering cheerful screams, as the water streams off from their plumage; there may be dense foliage, and thick boughs immediately beneath, under which they might easily find shelter, but they prefer the warm shower, and seem to enjoy the wetting. No sooner, however, has the rain ceased, than they appear equally desirous to dry themselves, and to rid their plumage of the moisture."

In fine weather it is quite otherwise; they then decidedly prefer the shelter of the thickest trees, either as a protection from the burning heat of the sun, or for the purpose of concealment, and hasten to them at once on the slightest alarm. They know what an excellent protection to them, clothed as they are in leafy green, the verdant bower offers; and, truly, when thus ensconced, they are tolerably secure from observation; a man may know that there are fifty of them in a tree, and not see one. In playing their game of hide and seek, both the colour of their feathers, and the cunning so peculiar to all parrots, contribute to their safety;—they do not want to be seen. One of their company has just at the right time observed the approach of an enemy; he gives a sign, they are all at once silent, and withdraw themselves towards the centre of the tree; noiselessly, they climb to that side of the summit opposite to the spot where the enemy has appeared, they then fly off, and it is only when they are a hundred yards away that they seem to recover their voice, and scream to their hearts' content, apparently rather out of bravado, after having thus outwitted their pursuers, than for the sake of calling upon their companions. This clever game they play more especially when they have settled on some tree for the purpose of enjoying the fruit, as it is then that their thievish design is carried out with the greatest cunning. "Whilst on the wing," says Pöppig, "the large golden green Araras of the Andes will arrest their flight to come down upon the scarlet Coral trees (Erythrinæ) and the yellow Tachiæ, the heads of which they eagerly devour. Their cry is positively fearful; nevertheless, they are quite clever enough to understand that it would be dangerous to give utterance to it when they are just about to plunder some ripening field of Indian corn. At such a time, every one of them will repress its inclination to make a noise, giving utterance to no sound except a sort of murmur, with which it accompanies its proceedings, as it prosecutes its work of destruction with surprising quickness. The sportsman, or even the exasperated Indian, finds it by no means an easy task to surprise the thieves, seeing that two of the oldest birds are always set as watchmen upon the highest trees in the neighbourhood. The first note of alarm is immediately answered by a general, half-uttered cry from the assembled pilferers; the second is responded to by deafening screams, raised by the whole flock as they fly away, and it is only when their enemy has departed that they begin anew their destructive raid."

The presence of a numerous flock of parrots is generally only betrayed by the empty husks that rattle as they fall against the broad leaves of the bushes, producing a sound that can be heard from some distance.

Le Vaillant has noticed the silence of these birds at the approach of a suspicious-looking visitor, on the occasion of their mid-day assemblages. They will keep themselves so still that not the slightest sound can be heard to proceed from among them, even though thousands should be congregated together. On the discharge of a gun, the whole multitude will immediately take wing, and rise into the air with deafening cries, as though rendered furious by the interruption.

Far different is their conduct when they have become aware that the good-nature of man leaves them unmolested. In India, as Jerdan informs us, they not only come boldly into the towns, but will settle down, without the slightest shyness, upon the tops of the houses, and from this elevation descend to plunder the gardens and fields in the neighbourhood. Incredibly great, and justifying the most efficient means of defence on the part of man, is the destruction caused by parrots; nothing is safe that is not constantly guarded. Like the monkeys, they waste a great deal more than they eat.

The multitudes which assemble upon the fields or fruit trees devour all they can upon the spot, bite off still more, and carry a few ears of corn up into the trees, in order peaceably to fill their much craving stomachs. When they make their appearance in the orchard, they search every tree that is in fruit, and pluck such as may be ripe; bite a bit off, and if it does not exactly suit their very refined taste, throw it down upon the ground and take another instead. While feeding they generally climb the branches from below upwards, and as soon as they get to the top fly away to another tree, sweeping over the ground without ever moving their wings. Arrived at this second tree they recommence the work of destruction just as before.