Minnie's Pet Parrot

“O, wasn’t that a good bird, mamma? I’m sure they all must have loved her better than ever. Will you please tell the rest?”

“Mr. G. was for a long time ill, and was unable to rest well at night. Polly, who always remained in their chamber at night, was in the habit of rising early, and practising all her accomplishments by herself as soon as she could see. She would begin, ‘Mr. G.,’ and then go on, ‘My dear,’ the name he always called his wife, ‘Francis, Maria,’ until she had repeated the name of every member of the family; after which she chattered away a strange mixture of sense and nonsense until called to breakfast. After the gentleman was so ill, his best hours for rest were soon after dawn, and my friend would whisper, ‘Still, Polly! keep still!’

“This caution the parrot tried to enforce on herself by softly repeating the words away down her throat – ‘Keep still; Polly! keep still!’ and ever after until Mr. G.’s death, whenever she saw her mistress point to the bed, and put her finger on her lip, she began to whisper, ‘Keep still, Polly! Keep still!’

“At Mr. G.’s funeral, the clergyman, who was an Episcopalian, read with great solemnity the funeral service.

“The strangeness of the scene, the great concourse of people, and the sound of weeping, so interested Polly that she did not utter a word; but no sooner had the family returned from the grave than she began to utter sounds in sentences so nearly like what she had heard at the funeral, that it was recognized at once as the service for the dead.

“I forgot to tell you that, having been in the habit of hearing the children when they repeated the Lord’s prayer, she had long ago learned it, and never went to sleep on her perch without uttering the words with apparent solemnity.

“After the funeral, whenever a number of persons were assembled and began to talk in a mournful tone, Polly always seemed to think this a proper occasion to repeat her funeral service, often occupying an hour in the recital. There were no distinct words; but the sentences were so similar in length, and the tone so exactly that of the clergyman, that many persons recognized it without being told who the parrot wished to imitate.”

“I think Polly is the very best parrot I ever knew,” exclaimed Minnie. “I wish Mrs. G. would bring her here. I wonder what Poll would say to her.”

“Mrs. G.’s bird is dead, my dear; and a sad death it was too. I will tell you about it. After her husband’s decease, my friend had a little Blenheim spaniel presented her – a beautiful creature, with long white hair like satin, and salmon ears. She was naturally fond of pets, and soon became greatly attached to the dog, who returned her affection with all his heart. As soon as she entered the room, he ran joyfully to meet her, licking her hands, and showing his pleasure in every possible way.

“For some days she noticed that the bird seemed dull, and talked very little; yet she did not connect it with the fact of her attention to the dog. But at last as Polly refused to eat, and seemed uneasy when the spaniel was present, she was convinced that the bird was jealous. Every means was tried to reconcile the old friend to the new one, but in vain. Polly knew that children must of course be loved and cared for. She herself loved the children of her mistress; but she could not endure that any other favorite should divide the affection she had so long enjoyed. From this time she drooped; and upon consulting a physician, he said she had every symptom of consumption. Her feet swelled, and at last she died on my friend’s breast, seeming ‘happy in being allowed to die in the arms of one she so dearly loved.’”

A few weeks later, Mrs. Lee invited a small party of friends to take tea at her house. They were all seated in the parlor, and Poll, who was out of her cage, perched on the back of a chair in the next room, and listened with the greatest curiosity to the hum of so many voices.

Presently one of the ladies related a precious bit of scandal then running through the town. She had scarcely finished her narration, when a shrill exclamation, —

“Possible!” in a tone of incredulity, came through the open doors.

The relator blushed deeply, but went on to prove that her statement must be true, while Mrs. Lee was so much amused, she was obliged to make a great effort to keep from laughing.

Again, as soon as the lady ceased, the exclamation, —

“Possible!” was repeated, as if in greater doubt.

This was too much of an insult, and the lady’s face kindled with anger.

Mrs. Lee quietly arose, saying, “Poll must come in and make her own apology for her rudeness;” and soon returned with the parrot clinging to her finger.

“Poll has a bad habit of interrupting conversation,” she said, playfully, “especially when she wishes to be invited to join the company, as at present.”

“Could that sound come from a bird?” inquired the lady; “I certainly thought it was a human voice.”

Many of the company tried to make Poll talk, but she declined for the present. After a while, however, when some witty remark was made which caused a general laugh, Poll laughed too, both loud and long, and then, as if perfectly exhausted with so much emotion, exclaimed, —

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear me!”

Two or three of the company had been invited to bring their children, and just at this time Minnie returned with her young friends, having introduced them to Jacko and her other pets.

The little girls gathered eagerly around Mrs. Lee, begging her to make Poll talk to them.

“Perhaps you would like to play a game of hide-and-seek with her,” cried Minnie; “she plays that real nice.”

“Yes, oh, yes indeed!” was the united response.

“Come, Poll,” called Minnie, extending her finger.

The parrot went at first with seeming reluctance, but presently entered into the spirit of the play, running after the children around the tables and chairs, laughing as merrily as any of them, and every once in a while repeating that curious “Oh, dear! Oh, dear me!” as if quite worn out.

Minnie then called the little girls into the next room, shutting the door behind them, when Poll, putting her head down close to the crack, seemed trying to listen to what they said. She well understood the game, however, for she presently called, “Whoop,” and then hid behind the door, to catch them when they came along, crying out, as she did so, “Ah, you little rogue!”

After this, she laughed so heartily that none could help joining her, – certainly the ladies could not; but all agreed she knew altogether too much for a bird, and was the most wonderful parrot they had ever seen.

CHAPTER V.

POLL AND THE BACON

Minnie went one day with her parents to a neighboring town, to visit some friends. She had no sooner alighted from the carriage, than she heard the familiar sound of a parrot’s voice.

“How do you do, miss?” cried the bird, arching its superb neck.

“I am very well, thank you,” answered Minnie, laughing. “How are you?”

“I’m sick, very sick.” The funny creature hung her head, and assumed a plaintive, whining tone. “Got a bad cough. Oh, dear!” (Coughing violently.) “I’m sick, very sick. Call the doctor.”

“I’m glad you have a parrot,” the little girl said to her companion, who stood by laughing. “I have one too; I should admire to hear them talk to each other.”

“Yes, I should; but mother thinks one such noisy bird is more than she can endure. Father had Poll given to him when he was a little boy, and he says he couldn’t keep house without her. She is very old indeed, and is often sick, though now she is only making believe. Father will tell you how many years she has been in the family.”

“There is nothing I like so well,” exclaimed Minnie, enthusiastically, “as to hear stories about birds and beasts.”

“Oh, I’ll get father, then, to tell you a funny one about Polly when he was a little boy. He knows all about parrots, because he once went to the country where they live.”

At dinner, Minnie was introduced to the gentleman, whom she regarded with great interest, on account of his fondness for the bird. No sooner was the dessert brought on the table, and the servants had retired from the room, than Lizzie Monson, her young friend, began.

“Papa, will you please to tell Minnie about Poll finding out who stole the bacon?”

Mr. Lee burst into a merry laugh, but presently said, —

“I warn you it is a dangerous business. Our little daughter has such a passion for birds and beasts, that if she once finds out you are a story-teller, she won’t let you off very easily.”

Mr. Monson gazed a moment into the sparkling countenance of the child, upon which her father’s remarks had caused the roses to deepen, and said, smilingly, “She does not look very savage. Any contribution I can make,” turning to the child, “to your stock of knowledge on your favorite subject will give me great pleasure.”

His bow was so profound and his smile so arch that the little girl could not help laughing as she thanked him, while Lizzie whispered, “Isn’t papa a funny man?”

“Ask your friend to come into the library,” called out Mr. Monson, as they were leaving the dining hall.

“Father, isn’t Poll sixty years old?” cried Lizzie, pressing forward to attract his attention.

“She has been in the family ninety years,” answered the gentleman, “and was then probably one or two years of age. It is astonishing how much she knows. Lizzie, run and open her cage, and bring her here.”

“She is, indeed, a splendid bird,” remarked Mrs. Lee, gazing with delight at her richly-tinted plumage. “See, Minnie, how her neck is shaded from the most beautiful green to the richest mazarine blue.”

“And look at her breast, mother; see those elegant red feathers!”

“The parrot,” said Mr. Monson, “is an insulated bird. Its manners and general structure, and the mode of using its feet, as described by naturalists, are different from any other bird. Mr. Vigors, Mr. Swainson, and others, consider parrots the only group among birds which is completely sui generis. A parrot will, by means of its beak, and aided by its thick, fleshy tongue, clear the inside of a fresh pea from the outer skin, rejecting the latter, and performing the whole process with the greatest ease.

“In climbing, I presume you have noticed, she uses her hooked beak as well as her feet; and in feeding she rests on one foot, holding the food to her beak with the other. Her plumage is generally richly-tinted, while in some varieties, like this, it is superb. In all kinds the skin throws off a mealy powder, which saturates the feathers and makes them greasy.”

“Please, papa,” cried Lizzie, “to tell about these birds as you saw them in their own country.”

“I suppose, Minnie,” continued the gentleman, “that you know this is not the home of your favorite bird. You never see them at liberty and flying from tree to tree, as you do the robin or bluebird.”

“Yes, sir, I know that. Uncle Frank was going to bring me another parrot from South America, but mother thought one was enough.”

“I quite agree with you,” said Mrs. Monson, enthusiastically, “I can scarcely be reconciled to the noise of one, rousing me at all sorts of unreasonable hours, and keeping up such a clatter through the whole day.”

“They are confined to the warmer climates,” the gentleman went on, “and are most abundant in the tropics. I have seen a flock of them resting in a grove of trees, chattering and talking like a company of politicians at a caucus. They are indeed very noisy, keeping together in large flocks, and feeding upon fruits, buds, and seeds. At night they crowd together as closely as possible, and hiding their heads under their wings, sleep soundly. As soon as the first ray of light can be discerned, they are all awake, chatting over the business for the day. First they make their toilet, and in this they assist each other, being very fond of pluming each other’s feathers.

“One peculiarity of this bird is, that he has but one wife, and never marries again. The pairs form lasting attachments, and when one dies the mate sometimes mourns itself to death. They make a kind of nest in the hollow trees, and there bring up their young. They belong to the scansorial order of birds; that is, they have two toes forward and two backward. Some of them fly slowly; but others wing their way with the greatest rapidity, and for a long period.”

“I think,” remarked Mrs. Lee, “they are the most intelligent of the feathered race.”

“Yes, naturalists decidedly give them that character. Poll sometimes seems almost too human; and then they are so quick to learn. Did you know, Minnie, that a parrot is considered an article of delicacy for the table?”

“O, no, indeed, sir! I wouldn’t eat a parrot for any thing.”

“Nor I; but among other rare and luxurious articles on the bill of fare, described by Ælian, as entering into the feasts of the Emperor Heliogabalus, are the combs of fowls, the tongues of peacocks and nightingales, the heads of parrots and thrushes; and it is reported that with the bodies of the two latter he fed his beasts of prey.”

Minnie’s countenance expressed great distress, as she quickly exclaimed, “O, how cruel!”

“Now, papa,” said Lizzie, “please tell her about Poll and the bacon.”

“Yes, I mustn’t forget that. When I was a little boy, Minnie, my father kept a country store, where all manner of things were exposed for sale. On one counter, in the genteel part, were cambrics, calicoes, and even silks for ladies’ dresses, while at the other end were barrels of sugar, boxes of cheese, and other groceries, and above them hung large legs of bacon.

“Midway between these, a hook was driven into the beam, and there Poll used to hang as long ago as I can remember any thing.

“It was the custom for the men of the village to gather together at the store, and talk politics, or gossip about the affairs of the place. Long before town meeting, it was well understood at the store how each man in the community would vote, and who would be elected to the different offices.

“Among others who used to come there, was a man by the name of Brush. He was considered an inoffensive, well meaning man, with no force of character; but all supposed him honest. Poll, however, knew to the contrary; and after a while she convinced others that Brush was a thief.

“It was noticed, when this man got excited by the conversation, that he always left the circle round the stove, and walked back and forth through the store; and it was at such times that he contrived to cut large slices from the bacon, which he carefully concealed in his pocket. My father soon began to conclude that the meat, and sundry other articles, were missing, but could not imagine who was the thief. He watched for several days, not noticing that whenever Mr. Brush made his appearance, Poll instantly screamed, ‘Bacon.’

“One evening he determined to watch, as, the day previous, a larger slice than usual had been taken, and he was hid behind a barrel, when he saw Mr. Brush coming softly toward him.

“‘Bacon! bacon! bacon!’ screamed Poll, at the top of her voice.

“‘I’d wring your neck if I dared,’ murmured the man, glancing maliciously toward the bird; and then he walked back again to the fire.

“After this, father watched the parrot, and found he made this cry only when Brush appeared. He thought it so singular that he charged him with the theft, which the man, in great confusion reluctantly confessed.

“The curious story of his detection by a parrot soon spread through the town, and for years Mr. Brush was called by the name of Bacon, while the bird received much attention and many compliments for her sagacity.”

“I suppose, then, Poll saw him take it,” said Minnie, gravely.

“O, yes! He witnessed the whole proceeding, and did his best to give warning at once; but his loud cries were not understood.”

“Wasn’t he a good bird?” asked Lizzie.

“Yes, indeed. I suppose it would be a good plan to hang a parrot in every store.”

CHAPTER VI.

PARROT SAVING THE SILVER

Minnie was quite distressed one morning, when, on going to Poll’s cage to say “Good morning” to her pet, she found her unable to answer, only returning a feeble moan. She ran in haste to tell her mother, who thought it one of the parrot’s tricks. When she came down, however, she found Poll was really ill.

“Dear Poll! darling birdie!” she said, tenderly, stroking the beautiful head. “I’ll make you some tea, which I hope will soon cure you.”

She went at once to a side closet, and taking a little pinch of saffron from a paper, sent it to the cook, with directions to steep it at once.

Breakfast that morning was a dull affair, without Poll’s lively talk; and as, after the saffron tea, she did not at once revive, Minnie began to mourn so much lest her dear parrot would die, that her father, to occupy her attention, took her to the library, and read her some anecdotes, a few of which I will repeat.

“A tradesman in London kept two parrots, which usually hung in a cage over the porch projecting from the front door, so that when a person stood on the side of the street nearest the house, the birds could not be seen.

“One day, when the family were all absent, some one rapped at the door, when one of the parrots instantly called out, —

“‘Who’s there?’

“‘The man with the leather,’ was the reply.

“‘Oh, ho!’ retorted the parrot.

“The door not being opened as he expected, the stranger knocked again.

“‘Who’s there?’ repeated the bird.

“‘Why don’t you come down?’ cried the man, impatiently. ‘I can’t wait all day.’

“‘Oh, ho!’ was the only response.

“The man now became furious, and leaving the knocker, began to pull violently at the door bell, when the other parrot, who had not before spoken, exclaimed, ‘Go to the gate.’

“‘What gate?’ he asked, seeing no such convenience.

“‘Newgate,’ was the answer, just as the man, greatly enraged at the thought of being sent to Newgate prison, ran back into the street, and found out whom he was questioning.”

“Dr. Thornton, a benevolent physician in London, once visited the menagerie in Haymarket, where he saw a parrot confined by a chain fastened to his leg. He talked with the bird, and found he could imitate the barking of dogs, the cackling of fowls, and many sounds like the human voice. The bird, however, seemed melancholy and restless, which induced the good doctor to try and buy him of the owner. He succeeded at last in getting him for the sum of seventy-five dollars, which Dr. Thornton did not regret, since it would rescue the poor creature from her present unhappy confinement.

“The first thing he did was to loose him from the chain, and carry him home, where his diet was changed from scalded bread to toast and butter for breakfast, and potatoes, dumplings, and fruit for dinner.

“At first, his poor feet were so cramped, and the muscles so much weakened from long disuse, that he could not walk. He tottered at every step, and in a few minutes appeared greatly fatigued. But his liberated feet soon acquired uncommon agility, his plumage grew more resplendent, and he appeared perfectly happy. He no longer uttered harsh screams, but very readily learned many words, and amused himself for hours repeating them. He attached himself particularly to his kind benefactor, and always cheerfully practised his little accomplishments to please him, calling out, ‘What o’clock? Pretty fellow! Saucy fellow! Turn him out, Poll.’

“He was friendly to the children of the family, and to strangers, but exceedingly jealous of infants, from seeing them caressed.

“He was remarkably fond of music, and danced to all lively tunes, moving his wings, and also his head, backward and forward, to keep time. If any person sang or played a wrong measure, he stopped instantly. When his quick scent announced the time of meals, he ran up and down the pole, uttering a pleasing note of request.

“When any food was given him of which he was not very fond, he took it in his left claw, ate a little, and threw the rest down; but if the variety was nice and abundant, after eating what he wished, he carefully conveyed the remainder to his tin pail, saving it for another occasion.

“Every Friday a scissors grinder came and worked under his window. After listening attentively, Poll tried to imitate the sound with his throat, but could not succeed. He then struck his beak against the perch; but his quick ear discerned a difference. Finally he succeeded by drawing his claw in a particular way across the tin perch, and repeated the performance of grinding every Friday, much to the amusement of those who saw him.”

Minnie was so much interested in these stories that she quite forgot her grief, until her mother opened the library door to tell her that her pet was beginning to sing.

Minnie flew to see her, and before noon had the pleasure of knowing that Poll was quite recovered. Indeed, she had never seemed more gay. She hopped first on one foot and then on the other, in curious imitation of a polka dance, tossing her head on one side in a most coquettish manner.

Then she talked and laughed with Minnie, exclaiming every now and then in a cunning tone, “What are you about, you rogue? O, you little rogue!”

The little girl was delighted. She held Poll on her lap, caressing her fondly, and calling her by all sorts of endearing and funny names.

The parrot on her part seemed desirous of showing her gratitude for relief from pain by doing all she could to please her little friend. She often heard the cook calling Tom, who was apt to run to the barn when she wanted him; and she began in a loud, impatient tone, “Tom!” her voice rising; then again, “Tom!” falling inflection; “Tom!” again; “I say, Tom; come here, you rascal!”

Finding this made Minnie laugh heartily, she began to call, “Leo, come here! Lie down, sir! Tiney, Tiney,” in a small, fine voice, like the child’s; “Tiney, Tiney, Tiney! O, you little rogue!”

After this she chattered away like Jacko, cocking her eyes and looking as if she thought herself very smart.

Once in a while Poll talked Portuguese, which she had learned from some sailors who were in the vessel when she came over, more than fifteen years before. She began now to talk what sounded to Minnie like perfect jargon, but which so much amused the bird that she kept stopping to laugh most heartily.

By and by Mrs. Lee was ready to sit down; and she said Poll had had excitement enough for a sick bird, but told Minnie if she would bring the book about birds, she would try and find some true stories to read to her.

The next hour was passed most pleasantly to both of them. Some of the stories I will tell you.

“A parrot belonging to a lady in England was fond of attending family prayers; but for fear he might take it into his head to join in the responses, he was generally removed.

“But one evening, finding the family were assembling for that purpose, he crept under the sofa, and thought himself unnoticed. For some time he maintained a decorous silence; but at length he found himself unable to keep still, and instead of ‘Amen,’ burst out with, ‘Cheer, boys; cheer!’

“The lady directed the butler to take him from the room; and the man had taken him as far as the door, when the bird, perhaps thinking he had done wrong, and had better apologize, called out, —

“‘Sorry I spoke.’

“The overpowering effect on those present can be better imagined than described.”

“Here is a story,” continued Mrs. Lee, “of a parrot who acted as a police officer.”

“In Camden, New Jersey, Mr. John Hutchinson had a very loquacious parrot, and also a well-stocked chest of silver plate. One day some robbers thought they would like to use silver forks, goblets, and spoons, as well as their rich neighbors, and watching their opportunity broke into the pantry.

“They had already picked the lock off the thick oaken chest, and were diving down among salvers, pitchers, and smaller articles, when they were terrified to hear a loud, angry voice exclaim, —

“‘You lazy rascals, I see you! John, bring me my revolver!’

“Dropping the silver, which they had taken, on the floor, the robbers made a rush for the window, which they had forced open, and in their hurry got over the wrong fence into the yard of a neighbor who kept a fierce dog.

“Bruno, not at all pleased with the appearance of his sudden visitors, sprang upon them, barking at the top of his voice.