Only Larry knows the intricate details of those first few months out of the Cage. But what I do know is that knowing neither here nor there, he bravely made his way across middle America, battling winds and temperatures unfit for a young green parrot. He scavenged for nuts and berries and learned to like the taste of larvae. He even found he possessed a certain knack for using his beak to extract all the good juicy grubs hiding in the trees.
And of course he made friends along the way, for Larry was a very friendly parrot and generally happy. He learned from the Ravens how to stay away from the feline species. He learned from the Hummingbirds how to find the sweetest nectar. And he and the Mockingbirds would carry on into all hours of the night playing the mimicking game, though none could seem to quite get his favorite whistle just the way he did it. Sometimes they'd fly away annoyed calling down to him, "Why can't you just sing like a normal bird? Why must you always screech?"
He liked all the friends he met along the way, but he never truly felt like he fit in. He was always the outsider. The green one. The one who liked to screech instead of sing. So he kept flying. Knowing that one day, he would find Home. And when he found Home, he would find his song.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
A Word About Parrots
Now I know what you must be thinking right now, "Poor Larry! How did a tropical bird not made for flying long distances survive on his own, in the cold, in the heart of middle America? What did he eat?"
And those are all very good questions.
And to really understand how it all went down you have to know a thing or two about parrots.
Parrots are considered the most intelligent of all birds. Not just because they can imitate and mock even human sounds but because some parrots, like the African Grey Parrot, have been shown to even associate words with their meanings and form simple sentences. i.e. They can talk to you--in YOUR language. Dr. Harvey Karten, a neuroscientist at UCSD who studied bird physiology, has discovered that the lower part of the avian brain is functionally similar to that of humans, and not only excel in their language abilities, but also demonstrate high skills with tools and solving puzzles.
Another incredible thing about Parrots is the way they learn. Their early years seem to be their most developmental years, and they learn hunting and foraging from either their parents or from other sources around them. They can learn in solitude or socially like how they learn to protect themselves against predators by participating in play-fighting. In other words, their actors! =) But in general, stimuli around them help them adapt to their surroundings. A parrot kept in captivity or with little stimuli may retard his development. Like some parrots that lived with chickens for 3-9 months were still behaving as they did at 3 months in addition to adopting some very chicken-like behavior. And the chickens probably didn't have a whole lot of useful information for the little parrots to learn. Also, captive parrots can develop harmful behaviors like self-plucking if not given the proper environmental stimuli. Sounds like some humans I know.
They eat seeds, fruit, nectar, pollen, buds and even sometimes invertebrate animals (BUGS and GRUBS). One species accidentally attacked a sheep population in New Zealand and parrots in Ecuador were found feasting on clay. Conclusion: they can find food and they have the beak and the jaws to eat what they want.
But the most amazing thing you should know about parrots is that because of their intelligence and their adaptability, they are survivors. True Survivors. Little creches of parrots have popped up all over the world in areas with temperate climate where parrots are not native and would be unlikely to survive. And yet they do survive in little communities like in the UK, Belgium, Spain, even in Central Park in New York City. San Francisco had a little feral population of Red-Masked Parakeets who were the subject of the book and film called The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill.
So its no wonder to me that Larry survived. Because he is, by nature, a survivor.
And those are all very good questions.
And to really understand how it all went down you have to know a thing or two about parrots.
Parrots are considered the most intelligent of all birds. Not just because they can imitate and mock even human sounds but because some parrots, like the African Grey Parrot, have been shown to even associate words with their meanings and form simple sentences. i.e. They can talk to you--in YOUR language. Dr. Harvey Karten, a neuroscientist at UCSD who studied bird physiology, has discovered that the lower part of the avian brain is functionally similar to that of humans, and not only excel in their language abilities, but also demonstrate high skills with tools and solving puzzles.
Another incredible thing about Parrots is the way they learn. Their early years seem to be their most developmental years, and they learn hunting and foraging from either their parents or from other sources around them. They can learn in solitude or socially like how they learn to protect themselves against predators by participating in play-fighting. In other words, their actors! =) But in general, stimuli around them help them adapt to their surroundings. A parrot kept in captivity or with little stimuli may retard his development. Like some parrots that lived with chickens for 3-9 months were still behaving as they did at 3 months in addition to adopting some very chicken-like behavior. And the chickens probably didn't have a whole lot of useful information for the little parrots to learn. Also, captive parrots can develop harmful behaviors like self-plucking if not given the proper environmental stimuli. Sounds like some humans I know.
They eat seeds, fruit, nectar, pollen, buds and even sometimes invertebrate animals (BUGS and GRUBS). One species accidentally attacked a sheep population in New Zealand and parrots in Ecuador were found feasting on clay. Conclusion: they can find food and they have the beak and the jaws to eat what they want.
But the most amazing thing you should know about parrots is that because of their intelligence and their adaptability, they are survivors. True Survivors. Little creches of parrots have popped up all over the world in areas with temperate climate where parrots are not native and would be unlikely to survive. And yet they do survive in little communities like in the UK, Belgium, Spain, even in Central Park in New York City. San Francisco had a little feral population of Red-Masked Parakeets who were the subject of the book and film called The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill.
So its no wonder to me that Larry survived. Because he is, by nature, a survivor.
The Former Life of a Caged Parrot
Larry wasn't always as "free as a bird" or so the saying goes. Larry was actually born into captivity, in a small but quaint Pet Shop in rural Indiana. Being one of many green parrots, nothing about him particularly made him stick out from all the other birds in the shop, but nevertheless he was sold early on to an old man who wanted "a singing bird." As male parrots are more likely to sing to attract a mate, Larry was chosen, boxed up and sent on his way to his new home with the elderly gentleman.
His new home turned out to be in somewhat of a sterilized room where an nice old lady would sit and sleep and play the piano next to his cage. Almost every day the little old man would come to see the little old lady and he would talk to her and she would listen. Some days she recognized the little old man and gave him a big squeal and hug whenever she saw him enter her room. Other days she looked at him with a confused look of recognition but unsure about about how she knew him. She was always delighted, however, and her face lit up whenever he suggested that she play the piano. Her fingers flawlessly caressed the keys and remembered every movement necessary to aid the instrument in singing its perfect song.
Every once in a while, the little old man would turn to her green parrot and say, "Come on Bird. Do what you're supposed to do. Sing!" and the little old lady would turn to the little old man and say, "Now now, let him be. Larry's just finding his voice. He has to find his voice before he can find his song."
"Well, how long is it gonna take that gosh-darn bird to find his voice?" the old man responded gruffly.
"In his own time. He'll know when he's ready. Maybe he just needs to smell the rainforest or feel the wind underneath his wings. He is a parrot after all. Maybe he's sad because he isn't free and all he has for company is a little old lady like me," she responded.
"Don't be daft. He doesn't want to be free. That silly bird loves spending time with you, just like I do, and he's plenty happy where he is. I just wish he'd sing. I thought you'd like to have a singing bird to keep you company."
"Oh I love Larry even if he doesn't sing. Just like I love YOU and you never sing a note," she laughed and patted his leg. "I may not always remember your name, but just like my fingers can remember their song, I can remember I love you." The old man gave his wife a loving hug and said, "Well, as long as he makes you happy. Otherwise its Bird Soup for him."
One Tuesday night, as Larry and the little old lady were watching their regular episode of GLEE while happily munching on some sunflower seeds, he saw the bowl of shells slip from the little old lady's fingers and shatter on the floor. The little old lady sat motionless and Larry grew quite scared because he knew something was wrong but he didn't know what to do. On the TV, the funny coach was blowing a weird noise maker to get the attention of her cheerleaders, so Larry mustered up all his strength and repeated the sound of the whistle as loud and long as he could to the best of his ability. He whistled and trilled until he thought he couldn't whistle anymore and even then he kept whistling until finally a nurse in a pink uniform came into the room and saw the little old lady. Suddenly there was such a commotion of doctors and nurses, that Larry thought his cage was going to get knocked over. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the little old man appear at the doorway. He was looking in at the little old lady and Larry thought he noticed water falling down his cheeks, but almost immediately, the pink nurse took him by the arm and said, "Come on Larry, I need you to wait in the waiting room. I promise we'll do everything we can but the doctors need space. Its gonna be okay."
When all the commotion had died down and everyone had emptied the room, the nurse grabbed Larry's cage and took him out to the lobby where the little old man and a few other people faintly resembling him stood anxiously nearby. She handed his cage to the little old man and said, "This little guy did everything he could to raise a racket to save your wife but we just couldn't get there in time. I'm so sorry for your loss."
The little old man took Larry's cage and whispered, "thank you," even as the cage slipped from his fingers and he crumpled to the floor and started to sob. Larry hopped around as seeds, water and poo splashed all around him in his fallen cage. The little old man was making funny sounds so Larry joined him with his new whistle noise. Soon people were covering their ears, shouting at each other to shut him up and the little old man looked as if seeing Larry for the first time.
"So, you finally found your voice. Well then, see if you can turn it into a song." And with that he opened up Larry's cage and threw him out of his gilded protection.
"GO! Shoe!! SCRAM! Get outta here you dumb bird! Go fly! Go be free! Go to a rainforest or to hell, I don't care where you go just leave me alone."
Larry didn't know what to do. He flew around the room once then twice then landed back by his cage hoping the little old man would open the door. The other humans were trying to console the old man, trying to get Larry back in the cage, but the old man swatted their hands away.
"She said he wanted to be free and I said as long as he had her for company he was happy where he was, so now, let him be free. You hear me, you darn bird?? Get outta here! Do you wanna be BIRD SOUP?? THEN GO LARRY! LEAVE LARRY! Go find your song!"
So the scared little Larry hopped three hops and then flew up into the air and frantically scrambled out the door into the cold, dark night not knowing what he would do or where he would go.
His new home turned out to be in somewhat of a sterilized room where an nice old lady would sit and sleep and play the piano next to his cage. Almost every day the little old man would come to see the little old lady and he would talk to her and she would listen. Some days she recognized the little old man and gave him a big squeal and hug whenever she saw him enter her room. Other days she looked at him with a confused look of recognition but unsure about about how she knew him. She was always delighted, however, and her face lit up whenever he suggested that she play the piano. Her fingers flawlessly caressed the keys and remembered every movement necessary to aid the instrument in singing its perfect song.
Every once in a while, the little old man would turn to her green parrot and say, "Come on Bird. Do what you're supposed to do. Sing!" and the little old lady would turn to the little old man and say, "Now now, let him be. Larry's just finding his voice. He has to find his voice before he can find his song."
"Well, how long is it gonna take that gosh-darn bird to find his voice?" the old man responded gruffly.
"In his own time. He'll know when he's ready. Maybe he just needs to smell the rainforest or feel the wind underneath his wings. He is a parrot after all. Maybe he's sad because he isn't free and all he has for company is a little old lady like me," she responded.
"Don't be daft. He doesn't want to be free. That silly bird loves spending time with you, just like I do, and he's plenty happy where he is. I just wish he'd sing. I thought you'd like to have a singing bird to keep you company."
"Oh I love Larry even if he doesn't sing. Just like I love YOU and you never sing a note," she laughed and patted his leg. "I may not always remember your name, but just like my fingers can remember their song, I can remember I love you." The old man gave his wife a loving hug and said, "Well, as long as he makes you happy. Otherwise its Bird Soup for him."
One Tuesday night, as Larry and the little old lady were watching their regular episode of GLEE while happily munching on some sunflower seeds, he saw the bowl of shells slip from the little old lady's fingers and shatter on the floor. The little old lady sat motionless and Larry grew quite scared because he knew something was wrong but he didn't know what to do. On the TV, the funny coach was blowing a weird noise maker to get the attention of her cheerleaders, so Larry mustered up all his strength and repeated the sound of the whistle as loud and long as he could to the best of his ability. He whistled and trilled until he thought he couldn't whistle anymore and even then he kept whistling until finally a nurse in a pink uniform came into the room and saw the little old lady. Suddenly there was such a commotion of doctors and nurses, that Larry thought his cage was going to get knocked over. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the little old man appear at the doorway. He was looking in at the little old lady and Larry thought he noticed water falling down his cheeks, but almost immediately, the pink nurse took him by the arm and said, "Come on Larry, I need you to wait in the waiting room. I promise we'll do everything we can but the doctors need space. Its gonna be okay."
When all the commotion had died down and everyone had emptied the room, the nurse grabbed Larry's cage and took him out to the lobby where the little old man and a few other people faintly resembling him stood anxiously nearby. She handed his cage to the little old man and said, "This little guy did everything he could to raise a racket to save your wife but we just couldn't get there in time. I'm so sorry for your loss."
The little old man took Larry's cage and whispered, "thank you," even as the cage slipped from his fingers and he crumpled to the floor and started to sob. Larry hopped around as seeds, water and poo splashed all around him in his fallen cage. The little old man was making funny sounds so Larry joined him with his new whistle noise. Soon people were covering their ears, shouting at each other to shut him up and the little old man looked as if seeing Larry for the first time.
"So, you finally found your voice. Well then, see if you can turn it into a song." And with that he opened up Larry's cage and threw him out of his gilded protection.
"GO! Shoe!! SCRAM! Get outta here you dumb bird! Go fly! Go be free! Go to a rainforest or to hell, I don't care where you go just leave me alone."
Larry didn't know what to do. He flew around the room once then twice then landed back by his cage hoping the little old man would open the door. The other humans were trying to console the old man, trying to get Larry back in the cage, but the old man swatted their hands away.
"She said he wanted to be free and I said as long as he had her for company he was happy where he was, so now, let him be free. You hear me, you darn bird?? Get outta here! Do you wanna be BIRD SOUP?? THEN GO LARRY! LEAVE LARRY! Go find your song!"
So the scared little Larry hopped three hops and then flew up into the air and frantically scrambled out the door into the cold, dark night not knowing what he would do or where he would go.
Meet Larry.
These are the true and factual chronicles of Larry the Parrot.
I first met Larry when I moved into my new home in breezy Marina del Rey, CA. I had just unpacked my first box when I realized that my cozy one-bedroom apartment on the Marina was actually situated right smack-dab in the living room of several incredible creatures like playful Sea Lions, Egrets, Great Blue Herons, Great White Herons, and even Squid (just to name a few). Now, I had just moved from New York City where the extent of my bird watching had been Pigeons and Crows, but I'd read about birds in books with the little girl I babysat for five years, so I knew a thing or two. She and I shared a slight obsession with our flying feathered friends, and my new home provided me with the perfect opportunity to watch as various aquatic fowl lived out their airborne lives from the comfort of my balcony cuddle chair.
I soon discovered that my favorite part of the day was around sunset when the animals start preparing for bed. I would grab my tea and sit for an easy and enjoyable hour or so as I watched the Pelicans diving into the marina for their final after-dinner snack, the Sea Lions slowly leaving their perches of diminishing sun while playfully making their way to the rocks and the most majestic of my neighbors, the Egrets and the Herons, come in for the night to roost in the Tree right in front of my apartment.
Its almost magical the way Egrets and Herons fly: the Herons with their long necks and the Egrets with their lithe, white bodies that look so soft my hand itches to touch one. The most beautiful part is seeing them coming in from across the marina with the sun on their wings as they gracefully beat then glide their way to a perfectly executed landing into the Tree. Its breath-taking and awe-inspiring. Nature at its finest.
So, here I am enjoying my evening tea watching the beauty of the birds before me, when I hear this far away song of a very different bird. I can't place it because it is like a non-stop Coach Sylvester whistle. And I know its not the Egrets because as beautiful as they are, they have the loudest ugliest honk you can imagine (which they use freely when any other bird gets in their own private space on the Tree).
Sure enough, in the distance, I notice a flying form frantically flapping his little wings as fast as he can heading towards the Tree and singing his shrill little whistle without pausing for breath.
As he drew near I could see in the light of the sun that this little bird was bright green. He sang ecstatically and flapped erratically right up to the Egrets' Tree and without fear chased old Hercules (the Great Blue Heron who makes his nightly respite at the top of the Tree) around the building. Once he had his fun with old Herc, he crashed straight into the tree causing the Egrets to squawk and scream with annoyance at this green interruption of their nightly preening. But Larry didn't seem to mind. He just continued to search for his perfect spot in the Tree and once he found it, nestled himself in amongst the other birds. The Egrets and Herons honked a bit more to show their annoyance but eventually everyone calmed down and Larry had himself a nice little snooze and was apparently none the wiser that his neighbors were much larger, whiter and bluer with long skinny necks and legs while he was short, green and a little bit chubby.
It didn't seem to bother him at all that his flight was neither graceful nor fast and his feathers were not the typical color of beauty amongst his neighbors. He didn't seem to notice that his kind of bird is not supposed to live near salt water and sea winds but rather in jungles and warm misty forests where other tropically colored birds abide. But more than that, he didn't seem to understand or even care that he stuck out like a sore thumb here in the cool Marina of southern California.
And that is precisely why I decided Larry the Parrot was the coolest bird I had ever met.
I first met Larry when I moved into my new home in breezy Marina del Rey, CA. I had just unpacked my first box when I realized that my cozy one-bedroom apartment on the Marina was actually situated right smack-dab in the living room of several incredible creatures like playful Sea Lions, Egrets, Great Blue Herons, Great White Herons, and even Squid (just to name a few). Now, I had just moved from New York City where the extent of my bird watching had been Pigeons and Crows, but I'd read about birds in books with the little girl I babysat for five years, so I knew a thing or two. She and I shared a slight obsession with our flying feathered friends, and my new home provided me with the perfect opportunity to watch as various aquatic fowl lived out their airborne lives from the comfort of my balcony cuddle chair.
I soon discovered that my favorite part of the day was around sunset when the animals start preparing for bed. I would grab my tea and sit for an easy and enjoyable hour or so as I watched the Pelicans diving into the marina for their final after-dinner snack, the Sea Lions slowly leaving their perches of diminishing sun while playfully making their way to the rocks and the most majestic of my neighbors, the Egrets and the Herons, come in for the night to roost in the Tree right in front of my apartment.
Its almost magical the way Egrets and Herons fly: the Herons with their long necks and the Egrets with their lithe, white bodies that look so soft my hand itches to touch one. The most beautiful part is seeing them coming in from across the marina with the sun on their wings as they gracefully beat then glide their way to a perfectly executed landing into the Tree. Its breath-taking and awe-inspiring. Nature at its finest.
So, here I am enjoying my evening tea watching the beauty of the birds before me, when I hear this far away song of a very different bird. I can't place it because it is like a non-stop Coach Sylvester whistle. And I know its not the Egrets because as beautiful as they are, they have the loudest ugliest honk you can imagine (which they use freely when any other bird gets in their own private space on the Tree).
Sure enough, in the distance, I notice a flying form frantically flapping his little wings as fast as he can heading towards the Tree and singing his shrill little whistle without pausing for breath.
As he drew near I could see in the light of the sun that this little bird was bright green. He sang ecstatically and flapped erratically right up to the Egrets' Tree and without fear chased old Hercules (the Great Blue Heron who makes his nightly respite at the top of the Tree) around the building. Once he had his fun with old Herc, he crashed straight into the tree causing the Egrets to squawk and scream with annoyance at this green interruption of their nightly preening. But Larry didn't seem to mind. He just continued to search for his perfect spot in the Tree and once he found it, nestled himself in amongst the other birds. The Egrets and Herons honked a bit more to show their annoyance but eventually everyone calmed down and Larry had himself a nice little snooze and was apparently none the wiser that his neighbors were much larger, whiter and bluer with long skinny necks and legs while he was short, green and a little bit chubby.
It didn't seem to bother him at all that his flight was neither graceful nor fast and his feathers were not the typical color of beauty amongst his neighbors. He didn't seem to notice that his kind of bird is not supposed to live near salt water and sea winds but rather in jungles and warm misty forests where other tropically colored birds abide. But more than that, he didn't seem to understand or even care that he stuck out like a sore thumb here in the cool Marina of southern California.
And that is precisely why I decided Larry the Parrot was the coolest bird I had ever met.
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