Abstract
It is sometimes not simply necessary
to remind myself that Woody was born
in the wild. It is also rewarding, for such
parrots have something for their owners
that their tame, hand-fed cousins do
not: they have secrets. I have nothing
against those gentle, trusting birds we all
see in pet shops, birds known from the
egg, whose beaks are never to be feared ,
whose voices are subdued, whose sense
of creaturely obligation is as blatant as
any spouse's. Nor do I oppose the views
of the parrot conservationists whose
valiant work brought us the laws
banning the sale of imported birds. The
wilderness makes pets obscene, and
caged birds have long symbolized man's
inhumanity. Yet, for those who own
one, a parrot is not a parrot without...