Cassell's book of birds; vol. 1

by Alfred Edmund Brehm

"'Ohne Lieb und ohne maison

Können wir doch leben.'

Or—

"'Ein Kuss—sans façon.'

The latter version seemed to amuse him so much that he would burst into loud laughter. 'Polly, what does Lottie say?' he would sometimes ask himself, and answer immediately, as though some one else had put the question, 'Oh, my beautiful, beautiful little parrot; come and kiss me.' And this he would utter with the exact tone of endearment used by Lottie. He expressed his conceit by saying, 'Ah, how beautiful I am!' at the same time stroking his beak with his foot, though he was by no means handsome, for he had the ugly trick of pulling out his feathers. On this account he was ordered wine baths, which were administered to him by the help of a watering can. These baths were most disagreeable to him, and as soon as he saw preparations being made he would beg imploringly, 'Please don't make me wet! Poor little parrot! Please don't wet me!'

"He could not bear strangers, and those who came to see him, and wanted to hear him speak, only attained their wishes by hiding themselves. In their presence he was as quiet as a mouse, but chattered incessantly when visitors were out of sight, as though he wanted to indemnify himself for the restraint he had been under. There were people, however, who managed to gain his affections, and he would talk with them when they came, and used even to crack his jokes about them. A fat major, with whom he was well acquainted, was trying one day to teach him a new trick. 'Get upon the stick, parrot; get upon the stick!' commanded the soldier. But Polly seemed sulky. All at once, the bird burst into a loud laugh, and said, 'Get upon the stick, major; get upon the stick!' Another friend of his had not come to the house for some time. The visitor had been talked about, and it was expected that 'Roth,' as he was called, would make his appearance on a certain day. 'Here comes Roth,' said the bird, suddenly, as he saw him approaching through the window, and recognised him from some distance.

"This poor parrot came to an unlucky end; it was given as a present to a relation of its master, who had become superannuated, and had taken a childish fancy to the bird. But it could not endure the parting from all it loved, and died in the course of a few days."

We could tell of many grey parrots that have been brought to great perfection in the art of speaking, but the preceding anecdotes combine all that these birds have been known to do, so we will only observe that their wonderful memory and powers of mimicry have sometimes their disadvantages. Their first teachers are usually sailors, and it may, therefore, be easily imagined that their vocabulary is neither choice nor elegant; unluckily, the best educated birds will often remember these old lessons, and intermix the lowest and commonest words with their pretty phrases and speeches. The parrot can reproduce any peculiar sound with as much ease as it learns words, and will imitate the creaking of a neighbouring door, the barking of a dog, the mewing of a cat, or even an old man's cough.

Mr. Wood tells us that a friend of his had a parrot of this species, which proved herself a most tender and affectionate guardian. In a hedge of roses near its owner's house, a pair of finches had built their nest, and were regularly fed by the family, who were much attached to all kinds of pet animals. The numerous visitors to the rose hedge attracted Polly's attention, and, seeing the food they gave strewed around, she determined to emulate their good example. Being allowed to fly about, she left her cage, imitated the cry of the old finches, and gave the nestlings a part of her food; but these expressions of sympathy did not please the parent birds, who at once deserted their young from fear of the large stranger, so that Polly saw the little ones thus become orphans, and a fine field opened for her fostering care. From that hour she refused to return to her cage, and remained day and night near her adopted children, whom she fed with the greatest assiduity, and had the pleasure of rearing successfully. When the little ones were fledged they used to perch upon the head and neck of their foster-mother, who bore the burden with exemplary care; the parrot, however, received but small thanks, for her young charges had no sooner wings strong enough to bear them than they flew away. Poor Polly was for some time in bitter distress, but at length found consolation for her motherly feelings in the discovery of some deserted hedge sparrows; these she conveyed to her cage, where they were soon on the best terms with their adopted parent.