The CUSS words in this post have been encripted to shadow the guitly.
I have never owned a parrot, myna bird, or other talking fowl, but I have heard them in pet stores, and there have been visiting owners, and whatnot.
“Mindless fer! Mindless fer!”
We don’t teach parrots to say that. Now, would the bird, a mindless fer himself, call the hearer a fer (in a manner akin to that of machine intelligence) and transmit the message of someone else, or would the parrot implicate itself and thereby the hearer (in a wisdom that transcends the system) with the locution?
I’m reminded of “Jennifer,” the myna bird in The Nutty Professor that knows more than a human.
According to recent polls, “Hello!” is the phrase most often taught to talkers. “Cracker” is a classic that still lives. People give their birds all kinds of names.
But they rarely teach them to say, “All your goodies are gone.” I doubt that a parrot has ever been crucified.
My sister, the bird freak, once purchased an adult parrot who had a ready made vocabulary when she got him. It was mostly the usual “parroty” type words.
Until one night, right in the middle of dinner, when he declared to the house “My wife is a whore”
One of the funniest parrot-isms I have ever heard , my mother and I were in a bird store , and she was talking to a macaw . VEry swwetly , my mother said “Do you talk ?” , to which the bird , in a very amused tone , replied , “Birds don’t talk !”
I’m sure everyone has met at least one bird in their life that’s been taught to say, “Here, kitty kitty kitty!”
Several years ago, my grandfather was looking after a neighbor’s house and parrot while the neighbor was out of town for the weekend. As he was standing at the sink, rinsing out the bird’s water dish, he heard a menacing voice behind him say, “Git outta here, you sonuvabitch!”
Grandpa said he jumped about a foot and whirled around, but no one was there. He glared at the parrot, which blinked jauntily back at him. “Squawk?” it said. Grandpa replaced the water dish and headed out the door. Just as he shut it behind him he heard, very low, “Sonuvabitch.”
If I had a parrot, I’d teach it to say, “Your shoe’s untied!” just to see how many people would look down.
“Awwwk… okay, boys, we’re moving our hidedout to the old Acme warehouse at 1611 Franklin. awwwwk… let’s all say it over and over… 1611 franklin… awwwwk”
An uncle of an ex-boyfriend of mine had an African Grey. The only sounds it made were mimics of an alarm clock and Electronic Battleship. At any and all hours of the day or night.
our little quaker has a pretty good vocabulary. He’s not easy to understand, but some things he says are unmistakable.
His “cutest” trick used to be that when you’d take him out of the cage, he’d kiss your face and be adorable and then, out of nowhere, bite you and then CACKLE like mad.
Recently, though, he’s learned a few new words. One day, Mama Bean (which is what I will, from now on, call the female half of the couple who took me in) came in with a bewildered look on her face.
“I swear to God, I was giving Cecil some water and he said ‘ass’. followed directly by ‘bug-ass’”
where he learned “bug-ass,” we have no idea. We think he may have heard “ass” on TV, though.
Later on, I went for my morning run and came home just as the bird was waking up. “Hi Cecil” I said as I walked in the door. “fuck off.” he replied.
:eek:
I’m pretty sure the little bugger knows what he’s saying, too. A few days ago, I was curled up in the big chair next to the cage, reading with my face turned away from him.
“Ella,” he said.
“what?”
“Ella!”
“shh, Cecil, I’m reading.”
“Ella.”
“hmm.”
“Ella Ella”
I turned to face him,
“WHAT, Cecil?”
“fuck off! hahahahaha!”
