8 thoughts on ““One ‘scaped Piratical Parrot”

  1. Only if nesting season – or just before during “nutting” season, then squirrels complain mightily. Otherwise they’d just rather make off with my Chickasaw plums, a wild, faintly lavendar-tasting fruit which much of the time seems hardly worth the effort —until you get a fully ripe examplar and you immediately enlist in the Armed Human Entrenched Mightily against all the tree-rats getting everything good and juicy and just, well, just. Cats and dogs taught to climb tree trunks – if a big bough bends low especially and it had a demented me and an arrogantly tolerant Siamese encouraging-device for teachers. The cheese and apple – with said Seal Point eschewed always after one perfunctory nibble of each (only cat ever I knew which knew not the eat dairy, but then it was raised as a smartDog) – languished un-eaten on the tree limb until Tiger T. Dog negotiated his way up the short but thick trunk to join Skeeter and myself, whereupon the yellow crooked-tail cur would sit and insist I hand-select slices of apple and add cheese atop each bit – one for me, one for thee style. Who need – or heeds – pals when you can have dining companions/co-conspirators?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Every cold night at Winter wild – can parrots be feral? – parrakets(sp?) and the occasional parrot glom onto the transformer boxes high in the power poles in the warmer, wetter and less-traveled parts of town and form heat-hugging colonies clustered around the heat-generating boxes. We also have wild monkeys, some released by idiot pet-keepers when they find a rhesus-type will paint its rooms walls with flung feces, or those on a prank release from the old Sanford City Zoon’s boat-enclosed monkey island. Jiggs, The Mandrill, just smoked his gift-cigarettes and showed painted butt to all without the proper price.

    Liked by 1 person

      • When I was a lad we had Florida wild highbush (and low, called rabbit-eyed) blueberries and blackberries within a hundred yards of the house. And several kinds of poisonous snakes – two in particular: rattlesnakes and cottonmouth moccasins – absolutely adored the birds those berries brought by. We still get the odd black bear trolling through – the office is about six blocks North of the ancestral not-manse. Gators – and lovable river otters and ponderous manatee – musta been very lonely sailors to see sirens – seacows but ah hour’s bicycle ride away. Today its far more dangerous: Canadians, sober, out watching the green stuff float by their car windows and missing the motorcycles as they frantically claw their no-longer-vertical way toward escape. I have biker friends who tote their scooters on trailers to North Georgia and Alabama(stan) to escape the dangers of Florida traffic. Wild boar in the woods, especially in palmetto thickets upwards of 10-feet tall with bear-and-boar tunnels running through (and the only practical way to transit the patch several hundreds of feet across) is to step, sniff – for smell of reptile, bear or beastie boar with a bad attitude ’bout humans – and step again…and make plenty of noise in so doing to alert the dangerous wildlife a much more dangerous creature comes. Even gators flee. Unless of course you are standing in Mrs. Allie Gator’s unhatched-egg garage.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. The “wilds” ever-diminishing where-ever I have been graced to be are ever so much more safe than the two-footed wildernesses I have trespassed…and often without outside-visible knives of fighting proportions or firearms when my own government used to pay me to participate in its musings militaire. In The Woods I use my most dangerous weapons: olfactory to begin but cerebral and medulla muchly. My forebrain communes quickly and lovingly with my hindbrain: the old simian loves his slithery reptillian node oblongattaishly. Now, I get my scares from watching my world go fast past sanity straight to geddon’s arma which gets erected allatime anywhen’rewheres these days. Nothing is allowed just to be a fanciful scrape or fit but each must assume gargantua-shaming proportions to make Tommy Swift stew he had not though up some bigger words so to describe. Thank Diety the Scots taught the Irish to potato. Then, when the famine came at last to Erie’s belleisle they had too much work to do to fill a belly rather than yards and yards of thick foolscap to bedeck a wondered world with words falling like ungentle rain.

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are closed.