My dad had a parrot for years. I am really amazed how long they live.
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!
If I'm not mistaken, I believe that Winston Churchill's parrott is still alive.......