Bonzer Words!: Heather's Baby
Heather Stone tells of a cockatoo named Horace.
Many years ago away back in the 20th century, we had a lesser sulphur-crested cockatoo named Horace whom we had raised from squab hood. Our first child! Horace was no mere mortal cockatoo. Raised free, with humans and kittens, he actually believed himself to be a sort of hybrid cat-person and his chosen profession was to roam the back fences of the neighbourhood in search of kittens to baby-sit. He also loved music, especially Moog, which drove him into such a frenzy he would climb atop the record player and ride the record around and around whilst 'singing' lustily and doing the shake! This was excessively prejudicial to the longetivity of our LPs!
Horry loved to shower with us and during a storm would go and stand under a downpipe until every feather was plastered soaking to his skinny frame. He even had to be rescued from Port Philip Bay during a fishing trip as he insisted in treating the ocean like a giant shower laid on for his benefit. We never were able to convince him that cockies can't swim.
He would team up with 'his' cats to lure neighbourhood dogs into the driveway and ambush them from behind the porch pillar as they raced after the cat decoy. In the end, all local dogs crossed to the other side of the street to pass our driveway and studiously ignored the cats' enticements. With our own dog he would play soccer and go mat surfing.
He enjoyed human food as much as sunflower seed and loved nothing more than to swig a can of coke which he held by his beak above his head. His worst misdemeanours, such as chewing one of my books, were punishable by a severe scolding and a spank of the tail feathers. If he knew he was in the bad books he would retreat to his cage and pull the door shut behind him, insolently hissing defiance.
Horry had many adventures and misadventures, each a story in itself, but his greatest passion in life was to ride in the car. If he suspected you were about to go out, he would sneakily steal the car keys and refuse to relinquish them until he himself was placed in the car. Short of a hammer, nothing else would unlock the vice grip of his beak. He would insist on riding on the back of the driver's seat where he would spend the journey singing with sheer exuberance. As his singing voice was anything but melodious, he attracted considerable attention as well as contributing to our premature deafness.
But ... we lost him! It was personally devastating as, although he was now 13, it was as if we had lost a three year-old child. It was three days prior to us leaving the state. All the arrangements were set in concrete. We had been staying at a good friend's property in the Dandenong Ranges above Montrose and Horry went for a walk and became lost.
Cockatoos, unlike pigeons, have to learn landmarks and don't navigate by instinct. We advertised and spent those three days absolutely scouring the surrounding bush and back roads. Not a feather, not a claw. We believed then and I continue to believe now, that he 'hitch-hiked' a ride in a car, and is still living spoiled and happy in the Dandenongs.
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Heather writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au
