Sydney Porter—The Story of a Quaker Parrakeet 277


a look-in yet. There was also another inhabitant of the Cockatoo’s

aviary, of course not counting the mice, a little Grey-breasted Quaker

Parrakeet. In their gross ignorance the ones in authority thought this

bird too small to communicate the disease to the inhabitants of the

town over which they watched so fondly. If they had only have known

or communicated with the Minister of Health on the subject, they would

have found that “ every Parrot-like bird ”, whether a Love-bird,

a tiny Parrotlet, a giant Macaw, or even a familiar Budgerigar, was

tarred with the same brush. So our little Grey-breasted friend was sold

for a few shillings to a local bird dealer. Months passed ; the little

prisoner remained in its tiny cage with no perch at all, for “what was

the good of giving a Parrot a perch to stand on when it bit it up every

time ? ” No, it had to be taught a lesson—that perches were to stand

on and not to chew up. Now the inhabitants of Derby are renowned

for their wisdom in spite of the old adage which says : “ Derbyshire

born, Derbyshire bred, strong in the arm but weak in the head.” So,

of course, no one with any sense would take such a death-dealing

creature as a Parrot into the modest and aspidistra-decked parlours

of Derby.


We passed the poor captive each day on the way to the office, and

after a time my brother decided to risk the fate of an untimely death

from “ Psittacosis ” and purchase it for 5s. or so. But justice will not

be thwarted, as you will learn later on.


We had no Parrot-cage to spare, and as Quaker Parrakeets have

a sinister reputation for pugnacity we did not care to put it with our

other Parrakeets. So we gave it a free run of the bird-room, but it

proved itself a real nuisance. With a beak like a pair of pliers, it soon

cut through the wire netting into the other aviaries and caused much

consternation amongst the inhabitants.


One day the door of the bird-room was left open and down the stairs

and out of the door flew our little friend. I didn’t bother very much

for, knowing the neighbours, I knew that word would soon be brought

if it were located in the vicinity of Old Normanton. A few hours after¬

wards there was the inevitable, “ Have you lost a bird ? ” “ Yes,


I had.” So “ Polly ” was brought back. I told the finders that they

could keep him: but no, the dread menace of “Psittacosis ” was still



