stories of talking birds

OK, Brian has me going…  and apologies to those that dislike non-daffy related postings.  I just can’t resist.

The first is a true story:  Hastings is a large garden center business, that has been in Atlanta for many years.  They have always had a variety of parrots, and mynah birds.  Now how many times have you tried to get such birds to talk to you, to no avail? You just feel so stupid.  It was about 1972, and I was shopping  in one of the Hastings locations.  There were the mynah birds in their cage, and I thought, “I am going to ignore them…  as they never talk”.  I turned my back to them,  and proceeded to continue my shopping down the aisle.  I heard a voice that said, “Can’t you talk?”

The second is a tale I heard, many years ago:   A well-respected Southern Baptist minister, in Savannah, Georgia,  had dutifully taken in a talking parrot, from a member of his church, that was a Merchant Marine, and was shipping out and relocating elsewhere.  It was widely suspected by the congregation, that the departing member had questionable moral values.  The kindly old minister, a recent widower, thought the talking parrot would be good company for him.  He was soon to learn that the parrot’s vocabulary was X rated.  This often proved embarrassing and problematic, if the Preacher needed to entertain in his home.  The Pastor had taken to hiding the parrot away in the basement, and covering his cage with a dark cover, in an effort to stifle the attention craving parrot.  But the parrot adapted quickly, and  learned to spew his obscenities even louder.  One autumn evening, while the good Reverend was hosting a dinner for visiting church dignitaries in his home, the parrot could plainly be heard, yelling the worst language imaginable.  So the very embarrassed and frazzled minister excused himself, and dashed down to the basement.  In a stressed out panic, he snatched the parrot out of his cage,  and stuffed him into the upright chest freezer, which was mostly empty, except for a large frozen turkey, awaiting Thanksgiving.  The shaking minister slammed the door shut, and was satisfied the bird could no longer be heard upstairs.  The frustrated parrot was pacing about, flapping his wings for warmth, when he spied the frozen turkey.  He recoiled in horror, and said, “You must have said something really bad!”

OK, I’m done now.

Jaydee Atkins Ager                                

Executive Director

PO BX 522   Hawkinsville, GA    31036-0522

The American Daffodil Society, Inc.

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