The Parrot Who Played the Flute

A few months after DH and I were married, we acquired a baby Yellow-Naped Amazon named Lolita.

We named the baby bird after her mother, whom we had met when offspring Lolita was still in her shell. The breeder took us to see Lolita (the mom), and we watched as she made her way to her nest, put her head into the opening, and yelled, "Hello! Hello!" "We'll take one of those," we said.

We (mainly DH) finished hand-feeding her, and she grew from a scruffy baby bird into a beautiful green parrot with a patch of bright yellow on the back of her neck.

Pappy, who was maybe 9 or 10 at the time, taught her her first word one weekend; every time he walked by her, he said, "hello," and in two days, she was repeating the word. From there, she learned to whisper "good morning" when I uncovered her and "bye-bye" when we waved at her. She called all of us by name, sometimes repeatedly. "Don't you bite your mom," and "Don't you bite your dad," she warned–always good advice.

For many years she did flute arpeggios, but in the last few years she had stopped playing the flute. When DH played, however, she loved to get really, really close to the flute and the sheet music, posturing and flashing her eyes.

She loved spaghetti and pizza, and watching the fish in our koi pond. "Someone to Watch Over Me" was one of her favorite songs, for some reason.

She fancied herself an opera singer, but we told her not to give up her day job. A major music fan, Lolita always entertained DH's wind quintet by tuning up with them, laughing, and trying to accompany their music a la Kiri te Kanawa.

I have a heartwarming memory of Little Man, age 4, standing next to her cage, repeating, "Hello!" . . . life going full circle, and all that.

We had Lolita for about 21 years, but we suddenly lost her a couple of weeks ago. There was no warning, and she spent her last few days enjoying all the things she usually did.

It's always hard to say goodbye to a beloved pet, and doubly so when the pet used to talk to you all day.

I like to think she's at the Rainbow Bridge now, making beautiful music with George Gershwin.

Big Bird on the Roof

The other night, I ran into a neighbor who related that a mutual friend and neighbor of ours, Rooty-Tooty, along with her husband, Mr. Fix-it, had spotted a peacock on her roof. I replied, "And had she been having a cocktail?" "No," said JanenJim, "She insists she had not!"

I'll let our friend Rooty-Tooty tell the tale:

TS, now we both can claim feathered aviators resting atop our rooftops! Mine is about the size of yours, a tad smaller, legs not as long as your heron, and definitely not in search of fish food. Ours is a female peacock.

Two young men came walking up the driveway yesterday, one with a very large net in his hand, and asked if they could go through our backyard gate to look for a bird in the wooded area behind us. They had gotten a lead from someone in the neighborhood that a peacock was hanging around back there. (A neighbor had told us that a pheasant had been in our yard while we were at the lake.) He was about to give Mr. Fix-it a business card, when he turned around and spotted his prey on our garage roof.

Muffin the chow dog, our backyard boarder, had spotted her also. She barked and held Miss Peacock's attention while one of the young men went up on the roof with the net. The other young man on the ground whistled pleasant notes of distraction also. Ray and I just watched in amazement at the goings-on. The roof man tiptoed over the rooftop and trapped Miss Peacock with one slam of the net (he had obviously done this before). He carried her upside down by her feet, and when he released her from the net, you could appreciate the size of her.

Miss Peacock comes from a nearby neighborhood, where she lives in a large yard with donkeys, goats, etc. She had escaped from her pen a week ago, and she's been enjoying our neighborhood and her apparent freedom. Several people have seen her and thought she was a pheasant, because she has none of the beautiful colors of the male peacock. The two young men are caretakers/yardmen for the owners of this menagerie of animals.

I'm glad I have pictures to send you so you can see that it was not the martini's verbalizing a one up-manship on your Heron!

Feathered friends sticking together!

Well, Rooty-Tooty, I think we've both been outdone by Bill Rattray of Buckley, Washington:

Bill Rattray has a pet he never wanted. But it seems the pet has found an owner it wants.

"And I look out the window and it was an emu sitting in my backyard," said Rattray. "It's kind of the oddest thing to happen. I was thinking, 'They don't fly or nothing so how did it get in my backyard?'"

Rattray closed his yard gate and called animal control. But he was told animal control officers don't deal with emus.

Rattray is now trying to find out whether the bird had a previous owner. If so, he says, he'd love to reconnect the bird with its rightful owner.

"Obviously, if you're missing an emu, you're going to know it's missing," he said.