Illustration by Jan A. Igoe
Tamale was our family’s inaugural parrot—an adorable mini macaw who followed us home from the pet store. At least that’s what the kids and I told their dad. Tamale was a fast learner whose favorite thing was wolf-whistling at anything that moved, like Mrs. Stedman bending over in her garden.
I wanted to assure our neighbor that Tamale was the culprit, but she always scrambled back into her house too fast. Right after yelling “You perverts” at us.
Assuming you’re one of the 20 million people in the U.S. who keep parrots as pets, you already know they require lots of social interaction. You can’t just dump some seeds in their cage and walk away. Parrots need nonstop mental stimulation. When they don’t get it, they respond with screeching, feather plucking and destroying your home. Think Attila the Hun with a beak.
Despite that, birds are the pet of choice behind dogs, cats and fish, which are only pets in the sense that curling is a sport. They’ll never need a leash or a litter box, but they don’t jump for joy and welcome you home with open fins, either.
But parrots will. Smart and social, they’re always ready to share whatever you’re eating and sample your sparkly jewelry with their curious beaks. Unfortunately, they don’t distinguish between diamond earrings and chew toys. But if your ears aren’t already pierced, your parrot will be happy to do it for you.
Since parrots in the wild stick together and form permanent bonds, researchers started to wonder if captive “only child” parrots might appreciate some virtual company. They discovered that Polly doesn’t just want a cracker, she wants a cell phone.
In a three-month study of 18 birds taught to use phones and tablets, the tweety birds made 147 calls to fellow parrots. Some got so excited that they danced, sang and shared tips on foraging and flying, according to smithsonianmag.com.
Never once did I suspect that my parrots needed cell phones, or I would have shared mine. Maybe not my iPhone, but a Tracfone with prepaid minutes, in case they got carried away catching up with relatives in South America.
Over the years, we rescued several parrots, thanks to kids who swore a sacred oath to care for them without parental assistance and a mother who never learns. Shakespeare, our African Grey—supposedly the most talkative of all parrots—never uttered a single word, but he never needed any to convey spontaneous loathing for my ex, who steered clear whenever Shakespeare was out patrolling the sofa. You really don’t want to pick a fight with a creature that can crack walnuts like they’re M&Ms.
I didn’t truly appreciate Shakespeare’s silent treatment until Tamale picked up on a word I never meant to say, much less teach him. It’s one of those words that might accidentally escape your lips when you drop an entire tray of lasagna on your foot (which really hurts, by the way). Instantly, that becomes your parrot’s new favorite word. The one he’ll commit to memory and repeat forever—in front of your pastor, your book club, your kid’s teacher and the Pope, if he’s in town.
I tried assuring my skeptical kids that Tamale was just asking them to “sit,” but they didn’t buy it. “Ha, ha, ha, Mom said a bad word,” my ungrateful progeny mocked as they licked lasagna off the floor.
In my opinion, talking parrots are overrated. So are talking kids.
Jan A. Igoe loves birds, but there are no parrots in her future since they’re likely to outlive her by 50 years. Future owners would have to be named in her will, but changing her will is for the birds. Join us at HumorMe@SCLiving.coop any time.