Our Amazon Green parrot, Ernie, lives with someone else now, one of the hardest downsizing decisions of our recent move.
I found a tiny green feather on the kitchen floor the other day. I stooped, picked it up. Held it in my palm and let the memories (and a tear or two) come. I heard again his garbled “HellOOO,” which always came at strangely appropriate moments: When the phone rang. When any member of the family arrived. When we returned home after a day away. When he wanted a peanut.
Again I felt his barely-there weight on my shoulder, and the inquisitive probing of his hooked beak on my earlobe. We miss the bird more than I thought we would. Miss getting up in the morning and hearing him wake up. He stayed quiet under his blanket till he heard us. If we didn’t uncover him quickly, he reminded us to do so. First came gentle clucking sounds, but they quickly escalated until finally he exploded with his own version of “I’m UP! I’m UP!”
Amazon Greens aren’t the most intelligent parrots, but in our almost eleven years of living with Ernie, he continually surprised us with his abilities. On the day I watched him scratch his head using a stick firmly grasped in his talons, I decided that the phrase “birdbrain” is more of a compliment than an insult.
According to the book “Bird Brains” by researcher Candace Savage, recent studies of the brains of corvids (members of the crow family), indicate that they “seem to have powers of abstraction, memory, creativity, and insight – enough to put them on par with many mammals, including, in some instances, higher primates.” I don’t know if Amazon Greens belong in that family, but even if not, I always sensed Ernie was really a monkey in a green feathered suit.
He came to us at twenty from another family who couldn’t keep him. It took us awhile to get used to his vocalizations. He could deliver a mean wolf-whistle and scream like a woman being murdered. He arrived first, among our three pets at Hope House, and considered himself the Alpha pet, facing off with GraceCat and Cash, our sheepdog, so bravely they quickly backed down. For the rest of his life with us, they gave him a wide berth.
His new owner, an ardent bird lover, lives with several other small parrots. She’s dreamed of owning a big one her entire life. Ernie has become a rock star on her Facebook page. He’s having far more fun in that full house than he did with the Preacher and me. I’m delighted. We can visit anytime, she says. We plan to.
God gives so many good gifts of relationship. But other than Jesus and our human family and friends, could there be a greater one than friendship with one of his critters? I think not. I know not. And I have a few green feathers to remind me.
