186



My own experience with this species is that, when young,

it learns quickly, but that it forgets a great deal after a time, and

that, as it grows older, its powers of learning seem to fail.


For many years a male of this species, belonging to my

sou, was in my charge. He learned a few things well and more

imperfectly. His laughter was always a pleasure to listen to ;

and his “Shake a paw,” as he raised his right foot and clasped

one’s extended finger, was, and still is, perfect. He picked up

from me “You old Fool” practically straight away, and for

some time revelled in the sentence, playing on the word “ Fool ”

with great emphasis and satisfaction. On one occasion, he was

on a long perch in the garden aviary when I brought in a lady

to see the birds. With bristling feathers, excitedly hurrying

backwards and forwards, he instantly struck up “You old Fool;

Fool ; Fool ; you old Fool,” never stopping for a moment

until the lady, greatly offended, and regarding it as a personal

affront, abruptly withdrew into the house.


At one time, in my dining-room, where Polly was kept, I

had a Blue-cheeked Barbet. Anyone who has kept the male of

this species will be acquainted with its curious water-bubbling

note. Polly quickly picked it up, and, although this was many

years ago, still uses it as one of his favourite calls. Having

learned it, he came to regard it as his own ; and when the

Barbet uttered his own call Polty would go mad with rage,

thinking he was being mocked, and almost frantic in his

endeavours to get at him.


Polly could be terribly cruel. One day I carried him into

the garden, when he espied in a dark corner, well out of my

reach, a Scops Owl. I had forgotten, for the moment, that the

male was not in hiding as usual, but was keeping guard just

outside the nest on which the female was sitting. I heard Polly

utter a horrible chuckle, the import of which I knew well, and

at once realized the danger. I uttered a howl which might have

awakened the dead,—which Polly disregarded—and made a rush

for a long-handled net ; but it was too late. Polly gave but one

crunch ; and the poor little hero fell with a sickening thud, a

bloody shapeless mass ; the Parrot’s long upper mandible had

entered the back, smashed up one of the shoulders into splints,

and laid open the vitals. This was one of a few occasions

which I have experienced in bird-keeping when I had to bottle

up my wrath veiy tightly^—for I could have torn Polly limb from

limb in my hot anger. Marvellous to relate, the Scops recovered,

fully recovered his health, but of course was never able to fly

again.



