Parrot Won’t Be Friends

By Leonard Wibberley

First Published April 1, 1979

6/9/2020

I had a parrot with whom I tried to make friends—but the bird despised me.

It could see all my weaknesses and did not have an understanding nature.

I do not blame the parrot in the slightest degree. After all, it was I who had sought it out, who had purchased it, and it had no choice in the matter.

The man who sold it to me said it was a very kind-hearted bird, good-natured, quick to learn and constantly cheerful. It would, he said, make me an excellent companion and I felt the need for company at the time, for even a writer finds it irksome to be in the constant, silent company of books.

It was a Mexican moon parrot and I gave it the name Captain Flint, after Long John Silver’s famous bird in Treasure Island (which, by the way, was originally titled The Sea Cook).

The name was a mistake. I thought I could teach it to scream “Pieces of eight. Pieces of eight” or “Fetch aft the rum, Darby.” It wouldn’t even say, “Polly wants a cracker” or add “Amen” to my occasional swearing when I mistyped a line.

Moon parrots are supposed to be eminently trainable, and mainly they are, but this one wasn’t. I bought a book about them and fed it the right stuff and changed the bottom of its cage every day and cleaned the bars.

I got it a very interesting branch of an orange tree to perch on and climb around in and I also got it a swing and a mirror.

In return, it bit me whenever it could, fouled up the mirror, broke the swing and ignored the orange branch.

My book said that with a little patience I could get the parrot to perch on my finger. And, after a while, it would sit on my shoulder and walk or fly about my room and in other ways divert me. All I had to do, as a first step, was to gently present my finger to the parrot several times, when it would eventually perch on it.

That would be the first step in our friendship. It didn’t work out that way.

However gently I presented my finger to that bird, it would cock its head to one side, wink slowly two or three times and then bite it. It wasn’t just a little nip either. It clamped its beak down as hard as it could and held on for something like 10 years.

Well, I figured that I’m smarter than a parrot, which proves that I’m not very smart, so I found a leather glove and put it on and again presented my finger to the parrot. It bit the glove, clean through the leather. But that didn’t hurt so much and I kept on trying.

Eventually, the parrot perched on my gloved finger and I wrote in my journal, “Captain Flint stepped on my finger today. I make progress. Friendship is perhaps possible. But I think he still despises me.”

I was right. I kept up the gloved finger approach for a week and, by the end of that period, the parrot had stopped biting the glove and just stepped onto my finger as if he thoroughly enjoyed it.

Then, like a fool, I took the glove off and the parrot bit my finger almost to the bone. For two or three days I had to type without it.

When I tried to teach my parrot to talk, it used to just close its eyes and pray for patience. The book said that before releasing a parrot from its cage, to give it more space to move about, you should first clip the flight feathers of one of its wings.

I put two gloves on each hand before attempting to do this and the parrot bit right through them, of course. But at last I did manage to get the flight feathers of one wing clipped.

“I’m only doing this for your own good,” I said.

“Bollocks,” replied the parrot. That was the only word he ever spoke to me.

Anyway, when the feathers were cut, I opened the door of its cage and, after peering around like a cop looking up a dark alley, the parrot came out. It waddled around on the carpet for a while and then came to the desk where I was sitting.

I put my feet on the desktop immediately.

Clipped wing or no clipped wing, the parrot then flew up onto my shoulder. For one tremendous moment I thought now that it was out of the cage all was forgiven. Then the parrot bit me on the ear and flew out of the open window.

I have never seen it since.

***** NEW ON KINDLE *****

After years of being out of print, two of Leonard’s thrilling seafaring stories are finally available exclusively on Amazon in a 2-book bundle.

TWO IF BY SEA DESCRIPTION:

Two seafaring tales filled with gripping action, tests of the human spirit, and life lessons from the author of The Mouse that Roared.

WASHINGTON’S GUNPOWDER

The Colonial Army led by George Washington has laid siege to the British forces in Boston at the beginning of the Revolutionary War, but they will have to withdraw unless they get more supplies—especially gunpowder.

This exciting historical adventure tells the tale of George Royall (a young, reluctant lieutenant in the Colonial Navy) who is charged with sailing a secret cargo of gunpowder to Boston—a daring mission that involves Dutch spies, a British blockade, and a young woman who refuses to accept her station and plays an integral part in the mission as she also captures Royall’s heart.

“Derring-do and much lore of the sea. This is satisfying fare.”—Kirkus Review

SHANGHAIED & SHIPWRECKED

On his 16th birthday, Bill Smith’s father reads him the Parable of the Talents in the Bible and sends him from home with one hundred dollars and a charge to return in a year with his “talents” increased.

Bill immediately loses his money to a shyster and is shanghaied aboard a clipper ship bound to South America, forcing Bill on a high seas adventure filled with hardships as he travels from Argentina to the Orient and struggles to make his way back home.

“The atmosphere of the sea and of the daily life aboard a China clipper is well done. This book will be enjoyed by readers who like adventure on the sea far away and long ago.”—The Saturday Review

Find Two If By Sea on Amazon here.