The variety and multitude of parrots I might almost call innumerable.
Every different species differs distinctly in form, voice, and plumage.
Those with which I am best acquainted are the paracauteè, the
paracaubaỹ, the iribaya, the aruaỹ, the tuî, the mbaracana, the quaà, or
quacamayo, the caninde, the catita, or kikilk; and others whose names
have slipped my memory. I will relate what is most remarkable respecting
those which I know most of. The paracauteè signifies the true and
legitimate parrot, which excels the rest in sense and docility, and can
imitate the sounds of men and beasts with greatest ease and success. It
is equal in size to a young pigeon: its feathers are green, but yellow,
red, and blue on the head, wings, and tail. I had in my possession a
bird of this kind, which I called Don Pedro, and which articulately
pronounced many words, and even whole sentences, in the Spanish,
Guarany, and Abiponian languages, and learnt to sing a little Spanish
song admirably. Moreover he could imitate violent coughing, laughing,
weeping, barking, and an hundred other things so dexterously that you
would have sworn it was a man you heard. Whenever I travelled on foot or
on horseback, he sat upon my shoulder, always chatty, always playful.
When tired of his noise or his weight, I gave him to one of the Indians
to carry—he angrily bit the man's ear, and flew back to me. He laughed
very loud for a long time at an old Indian woman, whom we met riding on
an ass. Though he reposed all day long on my shoulder, yet about
sun-set, like fowls, he felt a desire for rest, began to grow angry,
and, by clapping his wings, and repeatedly biting my ear, admonished me
to stop the journey. Next day when I mounted my horse again, he was
extremely delighted, and did nothing but sing and laugh. When I stayed
in the town, he sometimes walked up and down a very long rope suspended
from two pillars outside the house. When I entered the dining-room he
would fly after me, and whilst we were dining, ran about the table, and
always flew angrily to bite the Indian who came to take away the rest of
the food with the dishes. He tasted, snatched, and swallowed any food
that he could lay hold of. He sometimes walked about the court-yard,
rubbing and sharpening his beak in the sand, which he often swallowed by
way of medicine. Seeing me caress a smaller parrot of another species,
filled with envy he attempted to pierce the bird with his beak; but
softened by a little coaxing, he not only suffered it to sleep under his
wings, but ever afterwards treated it as a pupil, or rather as a son.
What the older bird pronounced with a deep voice, the younger repeated
in a slenderer one. The Guaranies tie all their tame parrots, by one
foot, to a long pole, to prevent them from flying away. These chains did
not please me: I therefore clipped one wing of my parrots a little to
prevent them from flying long, or far away, leaving them the full
liberty of their legs. This Don Pedro of mine, after continuing many
years faithful, took advantage of the circumstance of his feathers
having grown a little too much, to fly away and disappear. He was sought
by many, but without success. At the end of three days he saw me passing
through a wood, and knew me instantly. Without delay he crept swiftly
along the boughs by the help of his beak and claws, and flew to my
shoulder, repeating the words Don Pedro. But though he lavished
unbounded caresses on me, he atoned for this desertion by the mutilation
of his feathers. I often wondered to hear this parrot repeat the
sentences that he knew so opportunely, as if he understood the meaning
of them; for when he was hungry, he cried _pobre Don Pedro_, poor Don
Pedro, in a tone calculated to excite compassion, repeating those words
again and again, till eatable roots, bread, or some other food was given
him. These particulars, relative to my parrot, the memory of which is
still dear to me, I have, perhaps with too much prolixity, related, in
order to show you how great is the power of education, even upon brute
animals. Female parrots learn to imitate human speech quicker and better
than the males. My companion had one which could repeat the Lord's
Prayer in the Guarany tongue. I could have fancied I heard a child
praying. This circumstance is very surprizing, as we find that the
females of other birds are almost mute. I never could understand how
parrots, brought by Englishmen or Dutchmen from the remotest parts of
Asia, Africa, or America, after travelling about so many months, or
years perhaps, learn to pronounce sentences either in German or French,
or any other language, when in Paraguay it is thought impossible to
teach them to speak, unless they be brought unfledged from the nest; for
when full grown we have found them quite indocile. They are most
conveniently taught at night, or in a dark room, where no object
presents itself to their eyes, no sound to their ears: though, whilst
walking on their rope, or on a pole, in the court-yard, they insensibly
learn to imitate dogs barking, horses neighing, cows lowing, old men
coughing, boys whistling, laughing, or crying—being extremely attentive
to every thing. By long experience I have found that parrots of every
kind will learn better and more willingly from women and children, whose
voices are sweeter, than from men.
The paracaubaỹ is of the same size and form as the paracauteè; but its
feathers are almost all green, with but a very sparing admixture of blue
ones, and perhaps a little yellow, or red feather here and there on its
head, wings, and tail. These birds babble some unintelligible stuff, but
never utter an articulate sound.
The aruaỹ, which is somewhat smaller than the former, is of a most
lovely shape, adorned with red, yellow, and bright green feathers, and
capable of talking a great deal, if instructed.
The iribaya, which scarce exceeds a European linnet in size, is
sparingly besprent with a few dark green, red, and blue feathers, and is
distinguished from the rest by a white circle round the eyes. Though of
a very lively temper, garrulous, restless, and apt to bite, it is unable
to learn to talk, and has a harsh voice. Some woods abound to such a
degree in these birds, that no other kind of parrot can be seen there.
The mbaracanà, and others of the same kind that are entirely green,
being devoid of all beauty and docility, are seldom taught by the
Indians. The tuỹs are divided into many species. The greenness of their
plumage is praised by every body. The least of them does not exceed a
man's little finger in length; they are extremely merry, and more apt to
bite than any of the rest.
The largest and most beautiful of all the parrots which Paraguay
produces, are the quaà, or quacamayo, and the caninde; the latter of
which is adorned in every part with feathers of a Prussian blue, and a
dark yellow colour; the former with very red and dark blue ones. Their
tail is composed of feathers a cubit in length. They are alike in form
and size, in which they far exceed a common cock. Their beak is so
strong that it would pierce the hard bark of an almond tree at one
stroke; you must be cautious, therefore, in handling them. At home they
are tamed sooner than you would believe it possible. In the town of St.
Joachim I had in my possession some very gentle quaàs and canindes. They
walked every day about the yard, and would never suffer themselves to be
separated, but always kept company together, and were always
quarrelling, so that you might apply to them the words of the poet, _Nec
tecum possum vivere, nec sine te_. They never learn to speak any thing
but their own name, which they articulately and clamorously pronounce
with a harsh voice. I had often wished to have an unfledged caninde
brought me from the nest, feeling quite sure that I should be able to
teach it to speak; but these wishes were vain; for the old Indians who
were born in the woods, and had long dwelt there, all replied with one
accord, God, the Creator of all things, alone knows where the caninde
builds its nest. For it is thought to hide its offspring in the hidden
recesses of the wood, and from thence, when they are advanced in age, to
fly with them to the open plains. Though so many kinds of parrots are
exposed for sale at the shops of Lisbon, or are exhibited in the gardens
of the chief people there, yet the caninde, which yields to none of the
parrot kind in beauty, is never to be met with out of Paraguay, nor is
it found in every part of that province even; for, like the other more
elegant parrots which I have described, it only inhabits the northern
forests. In the more southern regions, parrots of the largest size, but
of a sombre dark green colour, and annoying to the ears by their
senseless clamours, fly in crowds about the groves, especially those
composed of palm trees; where wander also great numbers of very small
parrots, about the size of a lark, adorned with pale green feathers, and
called catitas, or kikilk. They are merry, playful, cunning, and may
easily be taught to pronounce some words. They are kept in leathern
cages. Incredible is the mischief they do to fields sowed with maize.
Guards are necessary to keep them off. The Indians know how to change
the natural colour of the parrot into any other they choose. They pull
the feathers up by the roots, and rub the place from which they have
been plucked, till it grows red, and blood flows from it; they then
instil and press into the pores or sockets of the old feathers, juice of
any colour they like. If the wings or tail be imbued with a yellow, red,
or blue colour, yellow, red, or blue feathers will grow there. This was
practised amongst the Brazilians, Guaranies, and, according to P. Joseph
Labrador, amongst the Mbaya savages. The same Father observed that the
Indians performed the operation in the beginning of spring or autumn,
that green is very easily turned into yellow, and that yellow feathers,
if plucked up, will be succeeded by none but yellow ones. Why might not
the experiment be tried upon European birds? A red canary, a yellow
nightingale, and a blue lark, would certainly be curious objects.
As the beautiful colours of parrots, and their merry garrulity delight
the ear and eye, their flesh, in like manner, is extremely pleasing to
the palate, but being rather hard, must be beaten a little while, before
it will become tender. As parrots are exceedingly suspicious, all times
are not equally proper for hunting them. When they assemble on the
highest boughs, one of them occupies the top of the tree, that, if any
body approaches, he may warn his companions of their danger, and exhort
them to flight by sudden clamour. About sun-set they compose themselves
to rest like hens. A great crowd generally assemble on one tree, and as
each strives to get the highest bough, continual quarrels ensue—one
trying to push the other from the seat that he has obtained, whilst,
amid horrid clamours, the feathers that they have torn from each other
with their beak or claws, fly about in all directions. During these
contentions for the highest place, the hunter steals softly thither, and
with a gun, or a bow, knocks down the disputing bipeds. If ever you hear
the parrots, which you see in the houses of the wealthy, called by other
names than those I have mentioned, remember that they must have been
brought from other countries, of Asia, Africa, or America. White
parrots, with a little red crest, called cockatoos, and others of a grey
colour, which I have often seen in Germany, are unknown to Paraguay. The
smaller parrots, which we call tuỹ; in the Guarany tongue, have the
French name perroquet given them in Europe.