African Grey Parrots and Battersea Power Station
I grew up with a view of Battersea Power station. And recently, while visiting the newly revamped building, I was reminded of the time I decided to liberate our African Grey parrot from our two-bedroom flat on the Savona Estate.
So, who let the parrot out?
Well, it was me, and after almost fifty years, it is probably time to confess to the disappearance of our family’s African Grey parrot. Time to admit to my role in liberating it from the living room of our South London flat.
Over the six months (I think) it was with us, this bird became the bane of my life.
It was a constant battle of wits between bird and human each time I had to clean out its cage, top up its feed or refill its water bowl. It was all about speed and agility. Was I always able to withdraw my hand quickly to avoid being bitten? Not always, sometimes I’d end up with bloody fingers from its razor-sharp beak.
I grew to hate that bird and dreamt of getting rid of it.
At eleven inches tall, I can see it now tracking my every move with its watchful eyes. It was intelligent, I could tell, and I relied on this when planning and executing its liberation.
I bided my time and took the opportunity presented by a hot summer’s day and an open sash window.
It was one of those hot, sticky days during the long school holidays; my sister, I and a few others were playing by the bomb shelters around the back of the flats — daring each other to jump from the highest point of each construction. But I needed the loo, so leaving my sister behind, I ran to let myself into our empty flat.
I can’t remember what prompted me to enter the living room, possibly a squawk from the parrot. But as I poked my head in to look, I noticed the sash window opposite the birdcage had been left slightly ajar. The critical thing to note here is that it wasn’t me. I was already framing how I would present myself if questioned. At the tender age of eleven, I had decided which lie I might get away with.
Here was the opportunity I’d been waiting for; it was mid-afternoon, and no one else was due home for at least an hour. I would have plenty of time to set everything up and allow the bird enough time to escape.
All I needed to do was help the parrot while covering my tracks. If I were clever enough, it would look like the bird had escaped of its own accord through a series of ‘unfortunate events’😉.
Though I couldn’t be too long setting things up as I’d left my younger sister playing outside.
First, I hitched up the sash window to ensure the eleven-inch parrot could fit through the gap. And true to form, I could see the parrot watching me very closely. Essential for the next stage, which was to loosen the clasp on its cage door. I wanted the bird to see that its cage door wasn’t quite as it should have been.
This bird was more than capable of undoing the cage door if given some help and encouragement; that was precisely what I intended to do. Once I’d taken care of the cage door and the window, all I needed to do was withdraw and close the living room door tightly behind me. I didn’t want an irritated African Grey flying around the rest of the flat.
And I certainly didn’t relish the thought of trying to recapture it. My sincere hope was that the intelligence I read in its gaze would be enough for it to realise how to fully open the cage door and make its way to freedom through the open window. All I was doing was smoothing the way.
The operation took no more than five minutes, and I am pleased to say that it did indeed make its escape. As I recall, there was some discussion about the window being left open, but no one ever connected its disappearance with me.
Though I sometimes wonder if mum had her suspicions and kept them to herself. 😉
Until next time
Janice Taylor
www.blueskycareerconsulting.co.uk
Word count 740
(Adapted from a Pittabread post, July 2018)
