A Boy Crusoe; or, The Golden Treasure of the Virgin Islands

by Allan Eric

I tried to catch one of them, but they were sufficiently active to evade me successfully. I felt a great desire to capture one and teach him to talk, for I sometimes longed for a companion to speak to. Finally I evolved a plan for catching one. I set to work to construct a net, for a snare would injure them. I prepared a great quantity of fibres from the cocoanut cloth, and with it wove a purse-shaped net, perhaps two feet in length. This was to be suspended to a limb of a tree, and baited with a piece of roast yam suspended over the mouth of the bag in such a manner that, when the young parrot reached for it, he would be almost sure to lose his balance and fall in. Its weight, together with the fluttering of the bird, would draw the mouth of the bag together and prevent its escape.

This net cost me several weeks of work, but it was at last finished and ready to set. This I did very carefully, selecting a low limb in what seemed a favorite place for the parent birds to give flying lessons to the little ones.

For several days the net remained undisturbed, and every morning I supplied it with a fresh, white piece of yam.

One morning, just at daylight, I was awakened by a great outcry of parrots, and, feeling sure that one of the young birds had fallen into the net, I hastened toward it. Sure enough, the net had done its work, for it was bobbing about and swaying from the limb, while muffled little shrieks came from the nearly-closed mouth; and from the trees around there arose a perfect babel of discordant cries of parrots, old and young. The two parent birds were perched on the limb over the net, when I arrived, but on my approach they flew away a short distance, hurling cries of defiance at me. Carefully I cut the net clear of the limb and carried it to the house, the belligerent little parrot all the time fluttering and shrieking, and striking at my hand whenever it was near the opening. I reproached myself for not thinking to make a cage for it when captured, and I was obliged to secure the opening and deposit the net in the house, while I made a cage for my future companion. This was not a difficult task. Going to the brook where the wild canes grew, I cut a quantity of them and, cutting them to the required length, I stuck them into the ground, leaving spaces about two inches wide. The canes formed a small yard about two feet square. The top was covered with a piece of cocoanut cloth, the edges being tied all around to the upright canes.

How to get the fighting little bird out of the net and into the cage was the next question. I did not exactly relish the idea of putting my hand into the net, so finally I decided to lift one corner of the cocoanut cloth on the top of the cage, and, loosening the mouth of the net, insert it under the cloth, at the same time reversing the net. The scheme worked perfectly and the little parrot tumbled into the cage, his feathers all ruffled. He was a curious little thing and I laughed aloud as, without uttering a sound, he proceeded to smooth his feathers, and then to circumnavigate the cage. He then retired a little from the bars and regarded me with the utmost seriousness, canting his head, looking at me first with one eye and then the other. Then he began to dress his feathers, evidently resolved to make the best of it all, and to feel perfectly at home from the first.

I made my pet a little run-way outside the wall of the house, constructing it in the same manner as I had the cage, covering it half with cloth and the remainder with canes so he could have both sun and shade. This enclosure I connected with the cage by cutting a square hole through the wall of the house.

As the weeks passed, the parrot grew, his wing and tail feathers developed, and he became very beautiful. He enjoyed his new home, apparently, spending a part of his time outside, and part inside. He enjoyed the sunshine, but would never remain long in it. He preferred the shade of the cloth covered portion. Nights, he always passed inside, and I made a perch for him to sleep on. It was simply a cane passing through the cage and securely fastened to a bar on each side. Hours and hours he would spend, swinging on this bar over and over, holding on with his claws, and then with his stubby beak. I fed him on yams, bananas and oranges, but the banana was his favorite food.

Every day I talked to him, telling him all about the ship-wreck, discussing with him the various tasks that occupied me, and the probability of my rescue. I named him Puff Ball on account of his shape when captured, and then I called him simply "Puff." Puff listened patiently to all I had to say, frequently interjecting a sharp comment. Sometimes he would interrupt me by setting up a loud screeching, and I always had to cease talking when Puff had the floor.

For weeks he did not appear to attempt to imitate my words, and I began to despair of teaching him to talk, when one morning, as I lay awake for a few minutes before arising, I heard him softly chattering to himself. I listened and heard him say "Puff," "Puff," very distinctly. I was delighted and, going to the cage, I complimented him on his first attempt.

Once while bathing in the stream, I noticed, for the first time, several fish gliding through a quiet pool. From the momentary glance I had of them they appeared to resemble the white perch of the lakes at home.