My Mother's Adventures with Polly Parrot
My grandparents,
Calvin and Gladys Smith, furnished lodging for two brothers who were working for them. At that time, my mother and her parents lived in the little house that was the first home my mother remembers. (The aforementioned house was featured in the blog post entitled Miracles at the Little House and was posted on July 20, 2015.) In lieu of rent,
Grandpa and Grandma accepted a parrot in payment! To make matters worse,
Grandma discovered that every evening the talking parrot would call repeatedly
the name, “Willa Dean” causing my grandmother to suspect that she had taken
stolen property for the delinquent rent.
Grandma was a
working mother. Grandpa drove the team of horses while Grandma rode the
cultivator. Before Grandma left for the field, she always put on her meal of
pork to cook. That took care of lunch preparation.
Childcare for my
mother, Bernyce was imperative. Grandpa fixed a little seat for my mother to
ride on the cultivator. What resourceful parents she had!
The same cultivator
was stolen and later located around Skiatook. My grandparents could easily
identify it. Even though the thieves cut off Mother’s little custom-made seat, they
could not disguise where Grandpa had originally attached it.
One day while in the
field, they heard the cry, “Fire! Fire!” Grandpa reverted to his days playing
baseball and ran to the house as though he was rounding the bases during a
game. There was Polly, the parrot, perched atop their house watching the smoke
come out of the chimney. When Grandpa could see the house was not burning, but Grandma's dinner preparation produced the smoke, he
reacted angrily, “That nasty parrot!”
One evening Grandpa, Grandma, and my mother returned home
to hear laughter. It sounded just like Aunt Pearl Rainey’s cheerful,
high-pitched laugh. As Grandma searched through the house, she began saying,
“Now Pearl come out. I know you’re here.”
However, Aunt
Pearl was not there. No one else was there, except Polly, the parrot. Sure
enough, it was Polly laughing exactly like Aunt Pearl!
On another occasion,
my grandpa was trying to get the team of horses into their harness so he could work in the field. Polly Parrot begin saying, “Yee! Yee!” Immediately the horses reacted to the shrill
command, lurching back into the pasture. My normally easy-going grandpa retorted,
“That nasty parrot!”
My mother’s
maternal grandma, Rosa Jarrell Rainey, came often to visit at Mother’s home. When
she bid good-bye to Mother and her parents, Polly imitated their farewells with
her own mimicry of theirs by calling, “Good-bye, Grandma! Good-bye, Grandma!”
Another day when her grandmother came, Mother was
sitting in her highchair with Polly, the parrot, perched on the back of the
highchair. Polly leaned down to gently “kiss” Mother. Her grandma reacted in
fear and impulsively grabbed Polly’s back in an effort to protect her little
granddaughter. Polly’s beak instinctively ripped a deep gash in Grandma
Rainey’s hand. Up to this point, Polly had never harmed Mother or her parents.
Even as young as Mother was, she knew to offer Polly her finger for a perch and
never grab her.
Soon Mother’s parents sold Polly. In retrospect,
Mother has always insisted Polly did nothing wrong. She has often wondered what
happened to Polly since parrots naturally have a long life span. As an only
child, Mother bonded with Polly to such an extent that she still recalls how
she missed that lively, smart, avian imitator even though their adventures occurred over 85 years ago.
 |
| Bernyce Smith Gates, my mother, and her grandma, Rosa Jarrell Rainey. |
