PARROTS.
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, hanging393 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 loud394 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,395 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 i............