A Cocky tale

Anne here, and this time I'm not going to be digging into any history, just a little bit of personal history. I hope you'll forgive me, but I'm in the last stages of a book, and don't have time to dig out some historical tale for you. This story was inspired by the photos you see in this blog which were taken by my friend, Cate Ellink — they took me right back to when I was a child, and we had a sulphur-crested cockatoo, just like the one in the photos. (And aren't the photos superb?)

I first met Cocky (he never did get a proper name) when I was a child walking to my primary school in a small country town. He lived on the end of a long chain and frequently hopped back and forth along the long peaked roof of a neighbor's garage, calling out things to passers by, things like "Hello Cocky", and "Hello Pooh!" and dancing up and down, his yellow crest bobbing.

Then one day those neighbors moved, to Melbourne I heard, and Cocky with them, I assumed. Later that week I was wandering with my dog down near the lagoon near where we lived on the outskirts of town, when I heard, "Hello Pooh," from high up in a nearby tree. It was Cocky. The neighbors must have released him into the wild. 

Now cockatoos are wild in Australia. They circle in great screeching flocks, or graze quietly on grassy swards, nibbling on grass roots, or perch en masse in gum trees chattering noisily. But a cocky that's been tamed or raised in captivity could never survive in the wild — even at the age of ten, I knew that.

So I whizzed home, grabbed a packet of dry biscuits and headed back down to the tree near the lagoon. It took me the best part of the afternoon, but I coaxed Cocky down from that tree, feeding him bits of biscuits until he consented to step onto my arm. I proudly brought him home. 

It turned out that Cocky had a damaged wing and couldn't fly properly. He could launch himself into the air and flap about a bit, but only in circles and not for long. We didn't have a cage at that point, but it soon became clear that Cocky was happy to stay — once he'd taught the dog who was boss. We made a perch, where he'd retire to at night, but other than that he'd prowl around the back yard muttering to himself, nibbling on grass, and exploring. He was very sociable.

A few years later we moved up to a city—not Melbourne but not far away, and of course, we took Cocky with us. But how to transport him? We still hadn't a cage for him. So Dad had the brilliant idea of popping him into the grass-catcher from the lawn mower, and blocking the gap with a copy of Saturday's AGE, a newspaper with thick wads of advertising. 

Off we set in the car: me, my parents, the dog and Cocky in the grass catcher.  (My older siblings had all left home by this point.) All the while we heard rip, riip, rippp! as Cocky attacked the newspaper. After an hour or so of this we heard a mournful little voice saying, "Hello." And after several more of these sad little greetings, I begged Dad to let me see how Cocky was going. I opened the grass catcher and there was my poor bird, up to his neck in shredded newspaper. He climbed out and for a while sat on my shoulder. 

It was dark by then and the lights from on-coming cars kept flashing up to us and then disappearing. Cocky was wildly excited by them. Whenever headlights approached his crest would come up and he'd bob up and down. At one stage he jumped off my shoulder onto the back of Dad's seat, ran down his arm and perched on the steering wheel, where he had a better view. Sadly, Dad wouldn't let him stay there.

As I said, he couldn't really fly, and once we were in the new house, he had a fine old time exploring his new territory. To my surprise, several times when I got home from school, I'd find him on the roof, calling out "Hello pooh!" to passers by. I always managed to coax him back down, but it remained a mystery as to how he got up there in the first place.

The first time it happened, he'd walked from the roof of the house onto the electric wires. It was a weekend and he quickly drew a bit of a crowd. He was showing off mightily, his crest going up and down, dancing and bobbing away and calling out rude things to people. He'd skip along the wire between the poles, look beadily down at all the upturned faces—and then let go.

Everyone gasped, thinking he was going to fall, but no, he hung there upside down, dancing and calling out, enjoying himself no end. Then up he'd get, and a few minutes over he'd go again— such a show-off! 

Someone called the fire brigade and they came — they wouldn't today, I'm sure — and put a ladder against the pole where Cocky was currently sitting. He watched interestedly as a man climbed up — I'd asked to go up the ladder and fetch him, but they wouldn't let me. Cocky waited until he was a few feet away, called out "Hello Pooh!" and skipped along the wire onto the next pole, where he did a little triumphal dance.

The men moved the ladder to the next pole, but he did the same thing, only this time stayed between the poles, where he performed a series of tricks — much like these photos.

Eventually the fire brigade gave up — I'd assured them I could get him down. And I did, coaxing him down the telephone wires of a neighbor's house and climbing up their tree to get him.

But it was a mystery how he'd managed to get up there in the first place.

One day I was home sick in bed, and I saw from my bedroom window how he did it. Down the side of the house we had a row of fruit trees, all with long slender branches —new growth from where they'd been pruned the year before. I watched as  Cocky climbed into the tree and went right to the end of one of these long branches. It bent right down — he wasn't a light bird. Then he started to bounce. He bounced and bounced, going higher every time and at just the right moment, he let go and the branch flipped him onto the roof. All without using his wings.

I'd better finish this, but I have many more Cocky tales. He was a magnificent bird, clever and cunning and very naughty. I'm convinced he had a wonderful sense of humor. Cockies are natural clowns. Cate's photos are of a wild cockatoo, but he's performing for an audience, that's for sure. We only had our Cocky for a handful of years, but his memory lives on.

What about you? Did you have a special pet growing up? Tell us about it.

Comments

[Mary M.]

Anne, you really should make a children's book, maybe a series, about Cocky. What a character, and lucky you!

[Mary T]

First of all, your friend did a beautiful job with the photos. And like Mary M. above suggested, if you ever decide to write a children's book, you have a great source of inspiration.

As I was growing up, we always had animals - usually several at one time - but just cats and dogs.

Your story reminded me of a wounded Robin I noticed while sitting on my front porch shortly after I retired. I christened him (or her) Little Flappy because he could only fly several feet off the ground and not for very far. He was able to make it to the lower limb or a nearby maple tree, and he would sit there most of the time. This went on for several weeks. but one day while I was sitting there, he took off and was able to fly across the street at an altitude of about 10 feet. Never saw him again unless he was with one of the flocks of robins searching for worms in my front yard. But I missed saying hello to him.

Lovely post.

[Mary Jo Putney]

Anne, what a wonderful, wonderful story! And wonderful you for rescuing him. I know a couple that have several large birds including a cockatoo, so I'm going to send them this link. They'll love it!

And BOO! HISS to the original owners who abandoned him!

[Kareni]

What a wonderful post, Anne!

When I was young and in Australia, we had a parrot, Pali. He'd been rescued after falling from a nest; my mother hand fed him and he grew up tame. I was told he was a Cloncurry corella. He used many different voices and would tease the dog by calling out in my mother's voice, "Pierre, get your lead!"

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Mary, Maybe one day I'll write a memoir about Cocky. Cate's wonderful photos just brought all the memories back.

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Mary. Cate did a lovely job, didn't she, especially considering that was a wild bird. She often posts wonderful wildlife photos on her FB page, which I've linked to.

I liked your story about Little Flappy. I hope he flourished.

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Kareni. I often see small flocks of corellas grazing on local ovals. I think a lot of parrots have real personalities. I can just imaging Pali tricking your dog.

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Mary Jo — yes I don't understand people who would abandon a pet like that. I hope your friends enjoy the post — cockies are real characters.

[Diane Sallans]

One morning our neighbor brought my mother a baby bird he had found in his driveway - he told my Mom (a 'city girl') that it was a black canary - it was a Grackle & er named him the very original Blackie. We first had him in an old bird cage & fed him bred soaked in egg. Eventually we took him outside - he would come to my Mom when she called & clapped her hands. As he got older he stayed outside. We were allowed to use our neighbors pool & Blackie like to go with us tho he tended to divebomb the other kids. He was with us about 8 months and disappered after a heavy storm - we don't know if he was just blown away or it was time for him to migrate.

[Binnie Syril Braunstein]

Anne-what a lovely post. And yes, the photos were gorgeous. I had a lovely dog named Max. When I adopted him, I expected to be getting a female German Shepherd dog. Pointy ears, plummey tail. What I ended up adopting was a male dog with floppy ears: he was part Brittany spaniel and part pointer. He was NOT a German Shepherd, but he quickly became the dog of my heart. He had the softest fur and eyes the color of sherry. I used him for a dancing partner when I was writing a scene in a book. I had him for 13 short years. He died in 1995 and I'm still heartbroken.

[Julia Gasper]

Amazing, and such wonderful photographs. Would anybody believe this if you put it into a book?

[Enisa Haines]

Such a gorgeous post, Anne. Lucky you, having Cocky, even if only for a few years. I have a similar tale in that the family next door on moving left behind a young Bulldog. We didn't know until we heard whimpering and found him in their front yard. My mum tried coaxing him out with food but it took 3 days before he came to our house. Next morning my mum headed to the train on her way to work. Bruno followed so she turned back and left him in our front yard. After work, on getting off the train she saw Bruno waiting outside the station and together they headed home. He did this every day. Then one day as she headed to the train, Bruno following, a bus stopped nearby and the driver, seeing Bruno, called to him. Bruno looked at Mum, then calmly got on the bus. Mum stared and questioned the bus driver who told her Bruno got on the bus one day and everyone on board was happy so he let him ride. When he reached the shopping strip of the next su urb Bruno got off and went straight to the butcher shop where the butcher gave him meat. Then later, the bus returned and Bruno would get on and ride home. Wedo not know how Bruno got to know the butcher shop. What we know is he was a very clever dog. Thanks for bringing up this memory with your Cocky story.

[Teresa Broderick]

First of all, how could someone go away and just leave him there to fend for himself!! I'll never understand the mentality of people like that!!
Secondly I've been feeling a bit low and you've really cheered me up with this story :) He sounds like a great character and you were blessed to have him in your life.
I agree with Mary M above, it would make a great children's book.

[Jeanne Behnke]

What a fun story! Cocky would make an excellent book subject. I had a smart dog named Benji who knew how to hide from passing police cars on the lookout for him. Unfortunately he met a bad end but he was certainly an entertaining delinquent dog.

[Constance]

Add me to the list of those who think your life with Cocky would make a terrific children's book, Anne! And you already know the photographer for your story!

When I first met my husband, his mother had a cockatiel named Romeo. His cage door was always open and he had the run of the house. I was not fond of live birds on the loose, having been frequently dive-bombed by a cousin's parakeet as a child. But on my second visit, we were sitting at the kitchen table when I felt something hit my shoulder. Romeo had landed. I froze - until he leaned close to my ear and said, "Romeo loves you!" and nuzzled my ear. After that, I was his biggest fan -- how could I not be when each time I entered the house, he repeated his declaration of love! And we had many loving encounters as he lived another 9 or 10 years. Thanks so much for bringing him back to mind, Anne!

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Diane — maybe it was time to mate. A few friends that have fostered baby birds often find that when they get to a certain age, the birds head off and start living as wild birds. One who feeds Australian magpies, finds that they will bring their babies back. I just looked up grackles — what an attractive bird.

[Anne Gracie]

Oh, Binnie, hugs. I know all about dogs of the heart. All dogs are wonderful companions, but some are more special than others. I still miss my Chloe-dog (who I used to show wearing a red feather boa on every WW post.)

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Julia. Anyone who's had a cocky would have no trouble believing it — other people? Who knows? :)

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Enisa — what a marvellous story. It reminded me a bit of Red Dog. Bruno sounds wonderful — and so clever to have trained so many humans. *g* . And did the neighbours just leave him when they moved? I do NOT understand that kind of behaviour.

[Anne Gracie]

I know, Teresa, I think people like that kid themselves that the animal will survive — it's more convenient that way. But it's horrible. Cocky was indeed a real character, and I could write any number of posts about him — which I won't. Maybe on my personal blog though.

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Jeanne, Benji sounds like a clever and mischievous boy. Unfortunately all animal stories end sadly, don't they? I remember a friend of mine, who always has several dogs, told me that one of her sons came to her one time and said "I'm never reading another dog story—they always end sadly."

[Anne Gracie]

What a gorgeous story, Constance — thanks for sharing it. And how could you not fall in love with a cockatiel who murmurs "Romeo loves you! in your ear. My godmother had a series of budgies throughout her life — each one called Joey — and he used to fly around the house freely, too. He'd land on your shoulder, and mutter things in Joey-speak — though nothing as charming as "Joey loves you!" However she did teach him to say his full name — Joey + her surname — and her phone number, in case he ever escaped the house, which I thought was very clever.

[Maribeth Curry]

Children's book?? What's wrong with an adult book? :) The way you weave tales, all of us would love to read a book about Cocky <3

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Maribeth, I did wonder whether children would have the staying power for this kind of story. Cate's photos sparked so many memories of Cocky that I thought I might keep putting some stories on my own blog — not the Word Wenches. We'll see.

[Karin]

I agree with Mary M., these stories would make a wonderful book, except most people would believe it was fiction! It's amazing the personalities that birds can have.
I've never had a bird, but my uncle did have a cockatiel that he taught to whistle "Yankee Doodle Dandy", which was a pretty cute trick.

[Karin]

What a great idea to teach the bird her phone number!

[Constance]

Maybe a Cocky ancestor needs to appear in Bellaire Gardens!

[Constance]

A very cute trick, Karin — assuming he only did it in command! ;)

[Anne Gracie]

Yes, it was a brilliant idea. She was a clever lady, my godmother.

[Anne Gracie]

Lol, a possibility indeed, Constance. I used to love an Enid Blyton (children's author) series I think it was the "adventure" series where one of the kids had a cocky called Kiki and I used to laugh and laugh at that bird. He wasn't really realistic -- he learned new things and imitated things and people at the drop of a hat, whereas a real cocky would take a while to learn new stuff, but I didn't care — I loved him anyway.This was long before I met our Cocky, so maybe Kiki paved the way.

[Anne Gracie]

Karin, I agree with you — unless people have had experience of a cocky or similar bird, most would think it very farfetched. But I might keep writing Cocky stories and see what eventuates. Cate's photos caused this blog to flow out of me, practically no corrections or rewriting. That was a cute trick of your uncle's cockatiel.I just remembered a cocky that lived at a pub I drank at occasionally who used to say "Vote Labor" to all the patrons.

[Enisa Haines]

Hi Anne. Yes, the neighbours just left him. We were all upset and welcomed Bruno to our home as soon as we discovered him alone.

[Christina Courtenay]

I love this story and I'm so glad Cocky had a happy life with you and your family after he was abandoned! He sounds wonderful!