Ours live to be over 50. It was brought to the States in the flight jacket pocket of a pilot flying up from South America and he gave it to my Grandmother. When my GM died my Mother had it until we moved overseas and my sister ended up with him. He was family. And very funny. Could meow like a cat and cluck like a chicken. When the phone would ring he would say “Hello” “Hello” until the phone was answered. My mother would give him a corner off a piece of toast soaked in coffee with a pat of buter for breakfast every morning. When we had fried chicken he would get the scrap drum stick that was eaten and pick it clean of any remaing meat then crack the bone open and eat the marow!
I want one. Are they legal to own in America?
My dad swears this is a true story. He had an aunt and uncle who had a pet parrot. The parrot was the favorite of the uncle and disliked the aunt. The feeling was mutual, and the aunt, named Fran, hated the parrot. One time the uncle was gone for several days, and it was left to his wife to take care of the parrot she disliked so much. To clean the bird she decided to use a garden hose hooked up to the kitchen sink. As she was spraying the bird, who didn’t like this method of getting clean, the bird squawked out, “Fran, Fran you’re getting the floor wet.”