St. Nicholas, Vol. 5, No. 2, December, 1877 by Various


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Page 62

"You must excuse me," I resumed, "that my viands are not of the
choicest cooking, and that I have no servants to wait upon my highly
esteemed guest, and that there are no silver knives and forks and
spoons to eat with in the latest civilized style, but I have rid myself
of all those things, and am glad of it."

The parrot nodded his head approvingly, as much as to say, "Right,
quite right."

The poor bird was very hungry, and I let him eat his fill.

Breakfast over, my guest flew upon my shoulder and was disposed to be
affectionate. He delicately pecked at my lips, drew his bill gently
across my cheeks, and pulled my hair with his claws.

"Come, come! friend Parrot, none of your soft billing and cooing. Leave
that to women and children."

So I gave my friend politely to understand that I did not care for such
pretty endearments; and, soon comprehending the force of my objection,
he very sensibly desisted from bestowing further attention upon me, and
thenceforth kept his handsome person reasonably aloof.

I entertained my friend two days, during which I gave him much valuable
advice, and, which was more to the purpose and perhaps better
appreciated, plenty to eat.

On the morning of the third day, the sun rose in all his beauty again,
and I fully expected the bird would fly away. He was in no hurry to go,
however. I went out, wandered about, and toward noon returned home.
Still the parrot was there. So it was the next day, and the next. I did
not want to resort to force and drive him away.

Finally I said to him one day:

"Friend Parrot; since I see you are in no hurry to leave my humble
home, and that it evidently grieves you to lose the pleasure of my
society, I shall not eject you forcibly from the premises. Stay,
therefore, as long as it shall please you. I will share with you food,
and shelter from the sun and rain. And whenever you grow weary of this
my society, tired of this plain habitation, or disgusted generally with
civilization, and wish to return to the freedom of savage life, you are
at liberty to go. 'Tis a large door, always open, out of which you can
fly; and when you are gone I shall shed no tears over your departure."

The bird seemed really to comprehend the drift of my discourse, and
from that time forward we lived upon the most intimate terms, which,
however, never passed the bounds of mutual respect.

Now, if we were to live in such close ties of friendship, it was
necessary that my friend should have a name, and that he, too, should
be able to address me by mine. The title, "Friend Parrot," was rather
too formal, and his screeching at me in some unmeaning way every time
he wanted me could not for long be tolerated.

So, "Mr. Parrot" said I, "you are Mr. Parrot no longer. Your name is
'Pippity.'"

He soon learned his new name, and then said I:

"Pippity! my name is 'Frank.'"

It was incredible how rapidly he learned mine.

"Further, Pippity," I continued, "you must learn the names of the
things round about us."

Instruction began at once. For several days he had to be told the names
of things many times before he was able to repeat them correctly; but
after that, and apparently all of a sudden, he seemed to have caught a
bright idea and to thoroughly understand my method of teaching.

From that time on, when the name of a thing was made plain to him, he
seemed to grasp it immediately and never forgot it. This expedited
matters wonderfully, for I liked to talk to him and observe his efforts
to repeat what I said, so there was ample conversation, though somewhat
one-sided, going on in our ancient dwelling. I marveled at the parrot's
extraordinary power; but what astonished me above all was his wonderful
memory, and his unlimited capacity for taking in new ideas. Sometimes I
would ask him, after an interval of weeks, some name of a thing I had
taught him, and the answer was invariably correct. On such occasions I
would say to him:

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Tue 23rd Dec 2025, 23:47