The real revelation came on a hot Thursday when Arthur sat working on a crossword puzzle. Red fluttered down onto the wooden table, hopped toward a wooden pencil, and picked it up cleverly in his beak. With uncanny precision, the bird held the pencil upright and nudged it into Arthur’s hand, tapping his scaly foot against the paper twice as if demanding he get back to work.
"Well, now," Arthur whispered, his eyes widening as he took the pencil. "Where on earth did you learn a trick like that?" He tested the bird further, holding out a small wooden ring from a napkin holder. Red took it deftly, flipped it over in his claws, and placed it neatly over the neck of an empty glass bottle before letting out a proud, ringing chirp.
This was no wild jungle bird that had casually strayed from the canopy. Red was a creature that had lived closely with humans and been trained with patience, love, and endless repetition. "Who lost you?" Arthur asked softly, offering a piece of mango. The bird took the fruit gently from his fingers, leaning its heavy head against Arthur's palm with a quiet, contented sigh that broke the old man's heart.