Sydney Porter—The Story of a Quaker Parrakeet



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Last summer my brother took pity on a poor decrepit Alexandrine

Parrakeet, another long-suffering prisoner from the same shop that the

Quaker Parrakeet came from. This bird was also placed in the orchard

in a cage to accustom it to the surroundings before letting it free. The

bird was a male, so that its reception was not quite as warm as that of

the little St. Thomas’ Conure ; still, in time the two birds became

friends, and soon our little friend was at his old job of turning the cage

into a wicker basket. This time his efforts were not appreciated, and

the Alexandrine wandered off, never to be seen again.


Our little friend developed a great antipathy for the Starlings

which used to visit the garden ; he chased them off the lawns, he used

to wait for them going into their nests under the eaves of the house,

in fact he would keep the parents away from their nests for hours..

One saw these poor patient creatures on the various gables of the house

or on the tops of the surroundings trees with beaks full of grubs or

worms, waiting until such times as the Parrakeet grew hungry and had

to go to his seed-tin, then there would be a concentrated dash on the

fond parents’ part to reach their offspring before their enemy came

back. There was one particular Starling for which he cherished a great

hatred ; he would remain by her nest for hours, and if she came

anywhere near he would chase her miles away.


In time after the Starlings had left he selected a site for his nest m y

this was a sheltered position under the eaves at an angle of the house.

The foundations were built on a support which held the telephone

wires. His energy was tireless ; all day he flew to and from a black

poplar-tree, where he cut the branches for his nest. Sometimes the

branches were so large that they almost weighed him down in his

flight. The nest grew apace until it was quite a bulky structure. At

last I secured a mate for him, a young bird which had been bred in

the country, and we had visions of flocks of young Quaker Parrakeets

around the house.


The day before the new arrival was due we missed him, but had no

doubt that he would turn up again. At the week-end I was in London ;

a message came to the house, “ Had I lost a Parrot ? ” Why, yes.

They went for him—they found him lying in a hedge with one wing

shattered. Some gentleman—we called him quite a different name at



