Their Peculiar Manner of Climbing—Points of Resemblance with Monkeys—Their Social Habits—Their Connubial Felicity—Inseparables—Talent for Mimicry—Wonderful Powers of Speech and Memory—Their Wide Range within the Temperate Zones—Colour of Parrots Artificially Changed by the South American Indians—The Cockatoos—Cockatoo Killing in Australia—The Macaw—The Parakeets.

The parrots have so many points of resemblance with the monkeys in their tastes and habits, that, notwithstanding their different appearance, one might almost be tempted to call them near relations. A constant restlessness is peculiar to both. Most animals love repose after meals, but not so the monkeys and the parrots, who, contrary to the general rule, only remain quiet while they are eating. At other times the former are always in motion, chattering or screaming, hanging from the boughs, or swinging to and fro like rope dancers, or jumping from branch to branch, or climbing to the top of the highest trees; and the parrots behave exactly in the same manner. They also are constantly screaming, flying or climbing about, when not eating a banana or cracking a nut; they also are particularly noisy before going to sleep.

As the monkey seldom or never sets his foot on even ground, but climbs or springs from branch to branch, thus also the parrot will rarely be seen walking; his flight is rapid, but generally only of short duration, so that evidently neither the ground nor the air were destined for his habitual abode. In climbing, however, he shows an uncommon expertness and agility, unlike that of any other quadruped or bird, as the organ he chiefly uses for the purpose is his beak. He first seizes with his powerful mandibles the branch he intends to ascend, and then raises his body one foot after the other; or if he happens to have a sweet nut in his bill which he is anxious to preserve, he presses his lower mandible firmly upon the branch, and raises himself by the contraction of the muscles of his neck. On descending, he first bends his head, lays the back of his beak upon the branch, and while the extended neck supports the weight of the body, brings down one foot after the other. While accidentally walking on even ground, he also frequently uses his upper mandible as a kind of crutch, by fixing its point or its back upon the ground; for the formation of his toes is such, that he can walk but very slowly, and consequently requires the aid of that singular support. Thus monkeys and parrots are, in the fullest sense of the word, dendritic animals—the free children of the primeval forest. But if the toes of the parrot are but ill adapted for walking, they render him valuable services in grasping his food. They even form a kind of hand, with which he conveys the morsel to his beak. This easily cracks the hardest nutshell, after which the broad and fleshy tongue adroitly extracts the kernel.

In his free state the parrot lives only upon nuts and seeds; when captive, however, he becomes omnivorous, like man his master, eats bread and meat, sugar and pastry, and is very fond of wine, which has a most exhilarating effect on his spirits.

Like most monkeys, the parrots are extremely social. At break of day they generally rise in large bands, and with loud screams fly away to seek their breakfast. After having feasted together, they retire to the shady parts of the forest as soon as the heat begins to be oppressive, and a few hours before the setting of the sun reappear in large troops.

If the monkeys are distinguished by a strong affection for their young, the parrots may be cited as models of connubial love, for when once a pair has been united, its attachment remains unaltered unto death. Far more than the turtle-dove, the little passerine parrot of Brazil, and the love-parrot of Guinea, deserved to be celebrated by poets as patterns of conjugal affection. Never seen but in each other’s company, each delights to imitate the actions of the other; and when one dies, the other soon follows its partner. A gentleman who had lost one of a pair of these inseparables, attempted to preserve the other by hanging up a looking-glass in its cage. At first the joy of the poor bird was boundless, as he fancied his mate restored to his caresses; but soon perceiving the deception, he pined away and died.

Another point of resemblance between the parrots and monkeys is their talent for mimicry; but while the latter, favoured by the similarity of their organisation to that of man, strive to copy his gestures and actions; the former endeavour to imitate his voice and to repeat his words, an attempt facilitated by the extreme mobility of their tongue and upper mandible, no less than by the peculiar construction of their larynx or windpipe. These imitative instincts appear the more remarkable when we consider that both monkeys and parrots have no pursuits that necessarily bring them into closer connection with man. They are comparatively useless to him, live at a distance from his haunts, in the depths of the forests, and are so far from seeking his company, that they retreat as fast as they can on seeing him approach. How comes it, then, that they have been gifted with their wonderful ability to imitate his language and his actions, and of what use is it to them or to us?

The talent of speech has not been given to all parrots alike. The beautiful American aras, for instance, are in this respect remarkably stupid, while the purple lory of the East Indies, and the grey African parrot (Psittacus erithacus), are remarkable for their linguistic attainments. It is well known that they are often able to retain whole songs and sentences, and to repeat them with astonishing exactness. Buffon mentions a parrot who, having been taught to speak during the passage by an old sailor, had so completely adopted his gruff voice as to be mistaken for the weather-beaten tarpaulin himself. Although the bird was afterwards presented to a young lady, and no more heard the voice of its first instructor, it did not forget his lessons, and nothing could be more ludicrous than to hear it suddenly pass from the sweet tones of its fair mistress to the rough accents of its first teacher.

The grey parrot not only imitates the voice of man, but has also a strong desire to do so, which he manifests by his attention in listening, and by the continuous efforts he makes to repeat the phrases he has heard. He seems to impose upon himself a daily task, which even occupies him during sleep, as he speaks in his dreams. His memory is astonishing, so that a cardinal once gave a hundred gold crowns for one of these birds that correctly repeated a long prayer; and M. de la Borde told Buffon he had seen one that was fully able to perform the duties of a ship’s chaplain.

All parrots are more or less susceptible of education, and, particularly when caught young, grow very much attached to the master that feeds them. Those that are sent to Europe are generally taken from the nest, and have thus never experienced the sweets of freedom; but they are also frequently caught full grown. The American Indians know how to strike them with small arrows, whose points are blunted with cotton, so as to stun without killing them; or else, under the trees on which they perch, they light a fire of strong-smelling weeds, whose vapours cause them to drop to the ground. These captives are frequently extremely stubborn; but blowing the fumes of tobacco into their face until they fall asleep is an infallible remedy to cure them of their obstinacy, this operation being so little to their taste that it need hardly ever be repeated twice.

Although pre-eminently tropical, like the colibris, several parrots range far within the temperate zone, as they are found in the Southern hemisphere at the Straits of Magellan and on the Macquarie Islands, and in the Northern, in the neighbourhood of Cairo and in Kentucky, where the Carolina parrot is often seen in great numbers during the summer. The parrots are subdivided into numerous groups and species, chiefly according to the various forms of their bills and tails. The short-tailed parrots of the Old World mostly display bright or gaudy colours, such as the Lories, which owe their name to the frequency with which they repeat this word, while the American species are generally green. The Indians have, however, found out an ingenious method to adorn the plumage of the Amazonian parrot (Psittacus Amazonicus), which is in great request, from its being easily tamed, and learning to speak with facility. They take a young bird from its nest, pluck the feathers from its back and shoulders, and then rub the naked parts with the blood of a small species of frog. The feathers which grow again after this operation are no longer green, but yellow, or of a bright red colour. Many birds die in consequence of being plucked, and thus these metamorphosed parrots are extremely rare, notwithstanding the high prices which the savages obtain for them.

The Cockatoos are distinguished from the other parrots by a crest of elegant feathers, which they can raise and depress at pleasure. They inhabit the East Indies and Australia, and have generally a white or roseate plumage. Their chief resorts are dense and humid forests, and they frequently cause great devastations in the rice plantations, often pouncing to the number of six or eight hundred upon a single field, and destroying even more than they devour.

The great white cockatoo (Cacatua Cristata), who is able to raise his beautiful yellow crest five inches high, as a cock does his comb, is the species most frequently seen in Europe. This bird is half-domesticated in several parts of India, as it builds its nest under the roofs of houses, and this tameness results from its intelligence, which seems superior to that of other parrots.

As Australia, the land of anomalies in natural history, possesses a black swan, it also gives birth to a splendid black cockatoo (Cacatua Banksii), the finest and rarest of the whole genus. Captain Grey gives us an animated description of the chasing of this bird. ‘Perhaps the finest sight that can be seen, in the whole circle of native sports, is the killing cockatoos with the kiley or boomerang. A native perceives a large flight of cockatoos in a forest which encircles a lagoon: the expanse of water affords an open clear space above it, unencumbered with trees, but which raise their gigantic forms all around, more vigorous in their growth from the damp soil in which they flourish; and in their leafy summits sit a boundless number of cockatoos, screaming, and flying from tree to tree, as they make their arrangements for a night’s sound sleep. The native throws aside his cloak, so that he may not even have this slight covering to impede his motions, draws his kiley from his belt, and with a noiseless, elastic step, approaches the lagoon, creeping from tree to tree, from bush to bush, and disturbing the birds as little as possible. Their sentinels, however, take the alarm; the cockatoos farthest from the water fly to the trees near its edge, and thus they keep concentrating their forces as the native advances; they are aware that danger is at hand, but are ignorant of its nature. At length the pursuer almost reaches the edge of the water, and the scared cockatoos with wild cries spring into the air; at the same instant the native raises his right hand high over his shoulder, and bounding forwards with his utmost speed for a few paces to give impetus to his blow, the kiley quits his hand as if it would strike the water, but when it has almost touched the unruffled surface of the lake, it spins upwards with inconceivable velocity, and with the strangest contortions. In vain the terrified cockatoos strive to avoid it; it sweeps wildly and uncertainly through the air (and so eccentric are its motions, that it requires but a slight stretch of the imagination to fancy it endowed with life), and with fell swoops is in rapid pursuit of the devoted birds, some of whom are almost certain to be brought screaming to the earth. But the wily savage has not yet done with them; he avails himself of the extraordinary attachment which these birds have for one another, and fastening a wounded one to a tree, so that its cries may induce its companions to return, he watches his opportunity, by throwing his kiley or spear, to add another bird or two to the booty he has already obtained.’

The magnificent Macaws, or Aras, of South America are distinguished by having their cheeks destitute of feathers, and their tail feathers long. Their size and splendid plumage render them fit ornaments of princely gardens, but their loud and piercing screams would prove a great annoyance to the inmates of humbler dwellings. ‘Superior in size and beauty to every parrot of South America,’ says Waterton, ‘the ara (Macrocercus Macao) will force you to take your eyes from the rest of animated nature, and gaze at him: his commanding strength; the flaming scarlet of his body; the lovely variety of red, yellow, blue, and green in his wings; the extraordinary length of his scarlet and blue tail, seem all to form and demand for him the title of emperor of all the parrots. He is scarce in Demerara, till you reach the confines of the Macoushi country; there he is in vast abundance: he mostly feeds on trees of the palm species. When the concourites have ripe fruit on them, they are covered with this magnificent parrot: he is not shy or wary; you may take your blow-pipe and quiver of poisoned arrows and kill more than you are able to carry back to your hut. They are very vociferous, and, like the common parrots, rise up in bodies towards sunset, and fly two and two to their place of rest. It is a grand sight in ornithology to see thousands of aras flying over your head, low enough to let you have a full view of their flaming mantle.’

The Paroquets, or Parakeets, are smaller than the common parrots, and have longer tails. There are numerous species, some distinguished by a very long pointed tail, and collar-like mark round the neck, which inhabit the Asiatic continent and islands; and others, natives of Australia, which are distinguished by their colour being gorgeously variegated and peculiarly mottled on the back, by their tail feathers not being pointed, and by their being furnished with elongated tarsi adapted for running on the ground.

To the former belongs the beautiful ring paroquet, which is supposed to have been the first bird of the parrot kind known to the ancient Greeks, having been brought from the island of Ceylon, after the Indian expeditions of Alexander the Great; to the latter, the elegant green parakeet, which in the hot seasons congregates about the pools in almost incredible numbers. Though capable of a rapid and even flight, and frequently at great altitudes, it is generally found running over the ground, and treading its way among the grasses to feed on the seeds. It can easily be domesticated, and a more elegant or beautiful pet can scarely be conceived.