In the woods near a farm lived a flock of parrots. Every morning, the
parrots went and ate sweet corn in the garden of the farm. Afternoons
they spent in the orange orchards eating oranges. They always made a
great to-do with their screaming and jawing; but they kept a sentinel
posted on one of the tree tops to let them know if the farmer was
coming.
Parrots are very much disliked by farmers in countries where parrots
grow wild. They bite into an ear of corn and the rest of the ear rots
when the next rain comes. Besides, parrots are very good to eat when
they are nicely broiled. At least the farmers of South America think so.
That is why people hunt them a great deal with shotguns.
One day the hired man on this farm managed to shoot the sentinel of the
flock of parrots. The parrot fell from the tree top with a broken wing.
But he made a good fight of it on the ground, biting and scratching the
man several times before he was made a prisoner. You see, the man
noticed that the bird was not very badly injured; and he thought he
would take it home as a present for the farmer's children.
The farmer's wife put the broken wing in splints and tied a bandage
tight around the parrot's body. The bird sat quite still for many days,
until he was entirely cured. Meanwhile he had become quite tame. The
children called him Pedrito; and Pedrito learned to hold out his claw to
shake hands; he liked to perch on people's shoulders, and to tweek their
ears gently with his bill.
Pedrito did not have to be kept in a cage. He spent the whole day out in
the orange and eucalyptus trees in the yard of the farmhouse. He had a
great time making sport of the hens when they cackled. The people of the
family had tea in the afternoon, and then Pedrito would always come into
the dining room and climb up with his claws and beak over the tablecloth
to get his bread-and-milk. What Pedrito liked best of all was bread
dipped in tea and milk.
The children talked to Pedrito so much, and he had so much to say to
them, that finally he could pronounce quite a number of words in the
language of people. He could say: "Good day, Pedrito!" and "nice papa,
nice papa"; "papa for Pedrito!" "Papa" is the word for bread-and-milk in
South America. And he said many things that he should not have; for
parrots, like children, learn naughty words very easily.
On rainy days Pedrito would sit on a chair back and grumble and grumble
for hours at a time. When the sun came out again he would begin to fly
about screaming at the top of his voice with pleasure.
Pedrito, in short, was a very happy and a very fortunate creature. He
was as free as a bird can be. At the same time he had his afternoon tea
like rich people.
Now it happened that one week it rained every day and Pedrito sat
indoors glum and disconsolate all the time, and saying the most bitter
and unhappy things to himself. But at last one morning the sun came out
bright and glorious. Pedrito could not contain himself: "Nice day, nice
day, Pedrito!" "Nice papa, nice papa," "Papa for Pedrito!" "Your paw,
Pedrito!" So he went flitting about the yard, talking gayly to himself,
to the hens, to everyone, including the beautiful, splendid sun itself.
From a tree top he saw the river in the distance, a silvery, shining
thread winding across the plain. And he flew off in that direction,
flying, flying, flying, till he was quite tired and had to stop on a
tree to rest.
Suddenly, on the ground far under him, Pedrito saw something shining
through the trees, two bright green lights, as big as overgrown
lightning bugs.
"Wonder what that is?" thought Pedrito to himself. "Nice papa! Papa for
Pedrito. Wonder what that is? Good day, Pedrito! Your paw, Pedrito!..."
And he chattered on, just talking nonsense, and mixing his words up so
that you could scarcely have understood him. Meantime he was jumping
down from branch to branch to get as close as possible to the two bright
gleaming lights. At last he saw that they were the eyes of a jaguar, who
was crouching low on the ground and staring up at him intently.
But who could be afraid of anything on a nice day like that? Not
Pedrito, at any rate. "Good day, jaguar!" said he. "Nice papa! Papa for
Pedrito! Your paw, Pedrito!"
The jaguar tried to make his voice as gentle as he could; but it was
with a growl that he answered: "GOOD DAY, POLL-PARROT!"
"Good day, good day, jaguar! Papa, papa, papa for Pedrito! Nice papa!"
You see, it was getting on toward four o'clock in the afternoon; and all
this talk about "papa" was intended to remind the jaguar that it was
tea-time. Pedrito had forgotten that jaguars don't serve tea, nor
bread-and-milk, as a rule.
"Nice tea, nice papa! Papa for Pedrito! Won't you have tea with me
today, jaguar?"
The jaguar began to get angry; for he thought all this chatter was
intended to make fun of him. Besides, he was very hungry, and had made
up his mind to eat this garrulous bird.
"Nice bird! Nice bird!" he growled. "Please come a little closer! I'm
deaf and can't understand what you say."
The jaguar was not deaf. All he wanted was to get the parrot to come
down one more branch, where he could reach him with his paws. But
Pedrito was thinking how pleased the children in the family would be to
see such a sleek jaguar coming in for tea. He hopped down one more
branch and began again: "Nice papa! Papa for Pedrito! Come home with me,
jaguar!"
"Just a little closer!" said the jaguar. "I can't hear!"
[Illustration: "Nice Bird! Nice Bird!" he growled, "Please come a little
closer."]