This week, Mother and I saw a news story about parrots. It prompted us to discuss Mother's first pet, the positive impression the parrot made on her, and to reprise this previous blog post.
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. Here is a link to the blog post: https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/07/miracles-at-little-house.html) 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 had produced the smoke, he reacted angrily, “That nasty parrot!”
 |
Lewis, older brother of Gladys
Rainey Smith, and Pearl
Bierman Rainey |
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 around 95 years ago.
 |
Bernyce Smith Gates, my mother, and her grandma, Rosa Jarrell Rainey.
|
