Mac 1, Tale 1

I wonder how many of our older customers remember 'Mac' the Macaw?
We did in fact have 2 macaws - one after the other. Mac 1 arrived when I was about 13 years old. He was taken in part exchange by my Father who was owed some money for some pet food. I still have the memory today of the phone call I received from my Dad saying that I was to 'come down to the shop and see what was waiting for me'. I rushed to my bike and peddled as fast as I could down to the shop.
I arrived out of breath from my journey and when I walked into the shop my heart almost stopped as well. There sitting above me on a large parrot stand was 'Mac'. He took one look at me with his black beady eye, raised his large foot in a sort of salute, bent over and in a very loud voice said 'Helllooo!'. Well from that moment on I was in love. Forget boys. That parrot was far better. He was well mannered, well dressed, always attentive, a bit cheeky and even my parents liked him! He was just about the most beautiful bird I had ever seen. A huge beast over a meter long. With a massive tail that trailed behind him like some regal train. Feathers that were yellow, black and blue. So blue that when the sun shone through them the colour was indescribable. Then there was his face. He had a large black beak that could crack a Brazil nut and pure white wrinkled skin around his eyes. This pale white skin had minute black feathers in rows where in a human his cheekbones would have been. The pupils of his eyes were jet black and around the outside of both of his eyes he had a complete ring of even smaller black feathers like some exotic eyeliner.
I knew that he was rather taken with me too, as whenever I told him that he was beautiful he would blush. All the white skin around his cheeks would flush bright pink and he would put his head on my shoulder and make strange clicking noises.
After not too much persuasion my Father agreed to keep Mac as a shop mascot.
Although Mac lived at the shop he often came home with my Father for lunch or in the days before we opened on Sundays he spent Sundays with us at home. He loved travelling in the car and would often give other drivers a shock when he sat on the back of the passenger seat shouting 'hello' or 'wahoo!!' One of his favorite pastimes was mucking about in the garden on warm summer days. He loved to waddle about when my parents were gardening, helping or rather just plain getting in the way. He would carry garden gloves and drop them in some inaccessible place, or move a trowel that had just been put down,to somewhere that you wouldn't think to look, or even decide that the handle of a garden fork would make a tasty snack and shred it into thin wooden slivers. As he was very tame he would from time to time decide to have a bit of a fly around. Usually that was alright, because just like our dog he would come back when called. But on one occasion he decided to take a bit of a longer flight than we expected. When I looked up there he was some distance up in the air. I still wasn't too worried. I called out his name, he gave me a quick look and flew on.
At that time we lived beside some open fields and I thought as long as I could see him then all would be well, - he flew on. Like some documentary on the Amazon rain forest he looked magnificent in full flight. All blue, gold and tail feathers. Then a crowd of crows spotted him. They circled round and round him like some second world war fighter planes, screeching and swearing. Mac ducked and dived and tried to shout back, but the crows with the advantage of numbers had him reeling. With his wings rammed close to his body Mac decided to admit defeat and head for terra firma. Poor bird he crash landed with quite a bump in the long grass. The crows on the other hand headed off together shouting and 'caw cawing' as though they had just won the Battle of Britain. I set off at a run trying to locate the 'downed' Mac. I shouted out his name and before long I heard mutterings coming from the ground a short distance away. He was chuntering to himself as he tried to raise himself up high enough to see exactly where he was. Macaws may look magnificent in full flight, but when they are very cross in a hay field they can look somewhat sorry for themselves. As soon as he saw me he grabbed hold of my trousers and then climbed up onto my shoulder. He shook the bits of chaff out of his feathers, gently held onto my earlobe with his beak so that he wouldn't fall off. And he and I walked quickly back to the house. In the garden my parents and I gave him a swift inspection to check that he was unhurt.- Luckily he got away with only a bruised ego -. After which he proceeded to find the highest branch that he could sit on. A stout one that was a good distance from any lurking crow and safe enough to be within a short hop to the security of the house. Then he started to shout and screech as loud as he possibly could at whatever bird of any shape or size that come close. Not content with that he raced up and down the branch, back and forth, slapping his feet on the dry bark, flapping his wings and spreading his huge tail while making cracking noises with his beak. He continued with his display until quite exhausted. Then evening fell and I had to climb the tree, pick him off his perch and take him back to his cage at the shop.
From that day until about a about a month afterwards all the garden birds that fed from my Mothers bird table disappeared. Slowly however one by one they made their way back to feast on the seeds that she left out for them. But I am sure that for weeks afterwards when they landed on the bird table you could see their little heads glancing over their shoulders as if they heard a noise. Just in case there was a large blue and gold bird shouting at them. I have often wondered if bird dream? Or do they have nightmares? The birds in our garden would have no doubt have had dreams of predators such as cats, foxes, magpies or sparrow hawks. But the most frightening of all must surely have been some mythical winged creature with a huge scary beak and the loudest of squawks, the strangest of dances, the brightest of colours, and a really really long tail.