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Antwerp, Paulding County, Ohio (Ohio, United States) (search for this): article 16
r gentleman looks in the same way through the half-open door, Polly cries: "Ah, there you are, Mr."--,and always stops — it knows the name is not "Clarke," But this same Polly was the property of a sailor, who must have been a bit of a coward in a stiff no'-wester; and when the wind blows hard, the bird will cry by the hour together in the most distressed and supplicatory tones: "Lord have mercy on Bob Barnard!" attaching, of course, just as little meaning to its words as one of its kind in Antwerp, which repeats the Paternoster and Ave Maria exactly as if it were saving a rosary — a pious accomplishment it required from being, like the famous Vertvert, pet-parrot to a convent. The facility with which my pretty Polly picks up inarticulate sounds is really astonishing. Distant street-cries, conversations with great variety of voice and tone, yet without any articulate utterance, the creaking of a gate, the rolling gravel with a garden roller, running-water, coughing, sneezing, &c
Amsterdam (New York, United States) (search for this): article 16
hat I shall do, sir, now you're come back — I shall speak my mind, which is, that me or that bird packs off this very afternoon!" I need not add that Forncett caught eagerly at the suggestion, and that the parrot went back, as he came, by the carrier that day. Common report says that Polly, like the phoenix, sees out its century; but from fifty to eighty years is the term of its natural life. Le Valliant, the celebrated naturalist, describes an octogenarian gray parrot he saw at Amsterdam; it was decrepit and doting like a very old man, had lost both sight and memory, and was kept alive with biscuits dipped in Madeira. After sixty, its memory began to fail, and it lost its words by degrees, returning to its native jackdaw note. At sixty-five, its moult became irregular; the tail feathers dwindled, and were replaced by dull yellow instead of red. After this change the bird never renewed its plumage. Three conditions are essential to Polly's health and comfort — warmth, pr
f the Cape by Vasco da Goma, 1496. It is common in most African regions, lives in large communities, but keeps in pairs. The thought comes strangely, enough, that "the coxcomb bird, so talkative and grave," sitting demurely at our fireside, has looked down from a far different perch on herds of buifil and elephants, and seen troops of scared antelopes flying from the lion. Ah, polly, you would talk to some purpose if you could tell us the wonders of your home in the primeval forests of South Africa, of the giant evergreen trees, thickly interlaced with gorgeous creepers, and the jungle beneath, a wilderness of glowing blossoms! Perhaps in the forests which climb half-way up the skirts of the Zeireberg, has pretty Polly chattered and swung with thousands of companions, while the morning shadows lay black in the ravines, and the mists rolled, purple, amber, and gray, down the mountain-heights as the sun struck the topmost crags with flame, and the great diapason of the forest, from a
he request which heads this paper — Buy Pretty Polly!--screamed out close behind us, put an end to thy, and like to live, both of ye, and so does Polly; but ye may be gone to-morrow, and so may she.ple. Its master will peep into the room where Polly is, who calls out instanter; "Ah, there you ar knows the name is not "Clarke," But this same Polly was the property of a sailor, who must have beonvent. The facility with which my pretty Polly picks up inarticulate sounds is really astonis supposes this little word to be coined out of Polly's inarticulate sounds, I beg to refer him to Pcarrier that day. Common report says that Polly, like the phoenix, sees out its century; but fts plumage. Three conditions are essential to Polly's health and comfort — warmth, proper food, ane dull and harsh-looking, you may be sure poor Polly is a martyr to dyspepsia, and feels quite as cway up the skirts of the Zeireberg, has pretty Polly chattered and swung with thousands of companio[2 more...]<
Fitzroy Kelley (search for this): article 16
our bird in full health and beauty --which is the visible sign of health — you must confine him to bread soaked in water (no milk, remember,) hemp-seed, or hemp and canary mixed; a bit of hard biscuit, or crust dried in the oven, is healthful; dates, nuts; in fact, any dry or ripe fresh fruit in moderation. He has Paddy's taste for a good boiled potato, which may be indulged. His favorite part on an apple is the core, from which he picks out the pips with evident relish, undaunted by Sir Fitzroy Kelley's opinion.--For orange and lemon pips, also, he has a penchant, even for those of the Saville orange which we might suppose too bitter for any living thing to eat. Never give your bird animal food in any form, and you will not find him suffer from dysentery, lose his feathers in patches, or pluck them out, as parrots often will, in the uneasiness produced by a vitiated state of the blood consequent on improper diet. The last point, a very important one, cleanliness. Both perch and ca
H. M. Smith (search for this): article 16
nding on the platform, and he had told me that he was off to London for a fortnight, he exclaimed: "Oh, B., we've got a parrot, and Morris doesn't know how to feed it. She gave it some of her supper last night — bread and cheese and beer. Will you tell us what they ought to have?" "Of course. But how came you by such a thing? Why, I should have thought you the last man in the world to buy a parrot." "I didn't buy him," explained Forncett.--"The canary died on Tuesday; and when Mr. Smith, of Yelverton, called that afternoon, he said he would send me a bird I should like instead. I was quite surprised when the parrot came in a great cage by the Yelverton carrier yesterday. Such a quiet bird, I think I shall like him. But what are you laughing at, B.?" Off went the train with a tremendous whistle, and off went my friend, holding his ears very hard. I finished my laugh as I walked up from the station. The idea of poor Forncett and his prize was really too ridiculous.
ft doublet, and just reminded my wife that she had always wished for a parrot — that I had promised to buy one, which I didn't at all remember — that there wasn't a better place for the purchase than Liverpool, and weren't we leaving to-day, and might never be there again — facts not in my power to gainsay the upshot was, that we found ourselves in the shop the next minute. The place looked more like a warehouse than a shop; it was lined with cages from the ceiling to the floor — a complete Noah's ark of feathered fowl. Nobody seemed to be guarding them, and for some minutes we stood watching the caged crowd within, screeching, whistling, fluttering, singing, in curious contrast, and yet not without a certain likeness to the perambulating crowd without. Here, too, was a babel of notes and voices; here was the strut, the swagger; here were beaks like hooked noses, both owned by birds of prey; hard, cruel eyes — eyes vindictive, melancholy, bright, restless, treacherous, suspiciou
ery hair complete, in full view of the bishop. He was a grave but genial man. The party proved particularly pleasant; and poor Mrs. Simpson, towards the middle of the luncheon, found leisure to think how well it was going off, when his lordship took notice of a parrot which, swinging in his cage suspended from a hook in the ceiling by the window, looked down on us all with a sort of vindictive surprise. "You have a fine bird there, Mr. Simpson," said the prelate; "I keep one myself at Fulford. Does yours talk much?" "No, my lord. I've taught him every day myself for the three weeks I've had him, but he won't say anything." "Indeed!" (The bishop looked benignly at the bird through his spectacles.) "Why, Coco, can't you talk? Haven't you anything to say to me, Coco?" At the sound of "Coco," his own name, which he had not heard at the vicarage, the bird set up all his feathers; perhaps he was excited, too, by the sight of so much company and good cheer; perhaps he
fectly familiar to him; beyond this, his speech becomes mere imitation of sound. A very sagacious parrot of my acquaintance offers a good example. Its master will peep into the room where Polly is, who calls out instanter; "Ah, there you are, Mr. Clarke!" If another gentleman looks in the same way through the half-open door, Polly cries: "Ah, there you are, Mr."--,and always stops — it knows the name is not "Clarke," But this same Polly was the property of a sailor, who must have been a bit ofClarke," But this same Polly was the property of a sailor, who must have been a bit of a coward in a stiff no'-wester; and when the wind blows hard, the bird will cry by the hour together in the most distressed and supplicatory tones: "Lord have mercy on Bob Barnard!" attaching, of course, just as little meaning to its words as one of its kind in Antwerp, which repeats the Paternoster and Ave Maria exactly as if it were saving a rosary — a pious accomplishment it required from being, like the famous Vertvert, pet-parrot to a convent. The facility with which my pretty Polly p
Caleb Forncett (search for this): article 16
study; a pale-faced, nervous bachelor, who makes his housekeeper go about in list-shoes, and would make the cat do so also, had not nature, in consideration of Mr. Forncett's nerves, given her a pair of velvet of her own. About a month back, as I was getting out of a railway-carriage at our little station, who should I see but CalCaleb Forncett getting into one! After we had shaken hands. e in the carriage, I standing on the platform, and he had told me that he was off to London for a fortnight, he exclaimed: "Oh, B., we've got a parrot, and Morris doesn't know how to feed it. She gave it some of her supper last night — bread and cheese and beer. Will you able at last, and had generously given it away half-a-dozen times; but it always came back, like a bad sovereign, to its owners. That day fortnight, when Caleb Forncett stood at the door of his house, he could scarcely believe it was his own. It might have been appropriated as a foundling-hospital during his absence: out of e
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