The Grey Parrot exhibits only two colours in its plumage. The tail is of a deep Cinnabar red, and all the other feathers are ash-grey or greyish blue, bordered with a lighter shade; near the head and neck the light borders of the feathers are somewhat wider than elsewhere. The beak is black, the eyes light brown, the bare places round the latter of a whitish colour. The male and female do not differ in hue, and but little in size, the male being the largest; its average measurement is twelve inches in length and twenty-five inches across the wings, the tail three inches and a half, the wing from shoulder to tip eight inches and a half; when folded, the wing extends some lines beyond the tail.
Very little is known of these birds in their wild state, although they are brought to Europe in far greater numbers than any other species. We learn from Heuglin that the habitat of the Jako extends from the western coast of Africa, deep into the heart of that continent, and reliable naturalists have seen it in great numbers in Wan and Bongo, up to 8° north latitude. It does not appear to penetrate further east, and is quite unknown in eastern Soudan; how far north and south it is found is at present doubtful. It is worthy of remark that these birds were not many years ago imported from Guinea to Madagascar, where they became naturalised and increased so rapidly, that at the commencement of the eighteenth century their numbers rendered them a perfect scourge to the inhabitants of the island of Bourbon and the Mauritius. The Grey parrot is one of the most highly-prized of our domestic favourites, and well merits the esteem in which it is held. Its praises have been sung in all languages, and every work on natural history relates some anecdotes of its surprising cleverness.
Perhaps the most celebrated of the species is one which lived for many years in Vienna and Salzburg, and luckily found an exact and industrious observer of its performances.
The Count Courcy Droitaumont was the first who, in the year 1835, in Oken's "Isis," gave us such particulars of its attainments as awakened astonishment in all quarters. This account has been attested by the late possessor of the parrot, President Kleimayrn, at the wish of Lenz, who afterwards published the following narrative:—"Jako noticed and criticised everything that passed before him, gave the proper answer to a question, did as he was bidden, saluted people who entered the room, and made his adieux to those who were taking leave; he wished you good morning and good night at the proper times, and asked for food when he was hungry.
"He called all the members of the family by name, and preferred some of them to others; if he wanted me (his master), he called out 'Papa, come here,' and whatever he said, sang, or whistled, was done as a human being would do it. There were times when he seemed inspired like an improvisatore; his voice then sounded like that of a speaker heard from a distance, when too far off to enable you to understand the words.
"Sometimes he would be marvellously polite—'Good morning, reverend sir!' 'An almond, if you please, reverend sir!' 'Do you want an almond?' 'Should you like a nut?' 'Shall I have some food soon?' 'Have you got something?' Occasionally he would threaten—'Be off, you rascal; are you going home or not?' 'Be off, you thief, or wait till I come!' 'You idiot!' 'You clown!' At times he was self-complacent—'Good little prattler!' 'You are an excellent little parrot!' 'Take time, neighbour, take time!' &c. If any one knocked at the door he would call very loudly and distinctly (just like a man) 'Come in! Come in, Herr B.!' 'What orders have you?' 'I am your humble servant!' 'I am delighted to have the honour! quite delighted to have the honour!' Or he would tap on his cage and say the above to himself.
"He could imitate the cuckoo excellently. Occasionally his conversation was rather discursive. 'Look out!' 'Come out!' 'Come up!' 'My dear little parrot!' 'Bravo, bravissimo!' 'Are we not going to dinner?' 'Let us go to the window!' 'Hieronymus, stand up!' 'I am going!' 'Long live the Emperor!' 'Where have you been?' 'Will you kindly excuse me, but I thought you were a bird?' Whenever he bit or spoiled anything, he would say, 'Don't bite!' 'Be quiet, do!' 'What have you been doing?' 'Wait a minute, you rascal; what have you been doing?' 'I am coming after you!' 'How are you, you little chatterer?' 'Have you got something to eat?' 'I hope you will enjoy it!' 'Hush, hush, good night!' 'Pretty Poll may go out; so come, come shoot, Poll, shoot!' and then he would shoot, calling loudly 'Puff!' 'There, there, there!' 'Go home, come march, go home directly!' 'I'm coming after you!' He would ring a bell that was placed in his house, and say, 'Who's that ringing? who's that ringing?' 'Why, here's a little dog! a pretty little dog!' Then he would whistle to the dog and say, 'Whistle, little dog!' and ask, 'What does the little dog say?' and then bark. If told to fire, he would say 'Puff!' and give the word of command, 'Halt; right about face; make ready; present; fire! Bravo, bravo!' He never said 'Bravo!' in connection with his faults.
THE JAKO (Psittacus erithacus).
"Sometimes he would cry out, 'What are you shaking me for? What are you doing to me?' and scream for help, as though being shaken, and call out again, 'Don't shake me, you rascal! Ah! that's the way of the world! alas! alas! Don't shake me, you rascal!' and then laugh with great distinctness. If anything ailed him, he would exclaim mournfully, 'Poor Poll is ill; poor little parrot!' If annoyed, his tone became defiant—'Wait a minute; I'll come and punish you!' If ever he saw the cloth being laid, or heard from a distance that preparations were making for a meal, he would immediately call out, 'Let's go to dinner!' When the family were at breakfast he would ask, 'Am I to have anything? I should like some chocolate!' He would remain quiet as long as his master slept; but if in another room would begin singing and whistling at break of day. In order to see if it would be possible to teach Jako to sing, we selected such words as he could say, and he was soon able to sing a verse of a song; he could put in harmonies, and readily run up and down the scales, and learnt to whistle many scraps and shakes. He never kept to the same key, but would take the air half a tone higher or lower, and yet never utter a false note. Whilst at Vienna he was taught an air from 'Martha,' and on being shown a dance, tried to imitate it by raising one foot after another, and putting his body into dancing attitudes. Kleimayrn died in 1853, and Jako fell ill, as it would seem, from pining after his beloved master. In 1854 he was so weak that he had to be laid in a little bed and carefully tended; he continued, however, to talk incessantly, and after saying, 'Your poor little parrot is ill!'—died."