Parrot Tree

Day 83: I don't recall that I've explained the whole story, right from the get-go, of how Evening Grosbeaks came to be known as Porch Parrots to my husband and me. It began with his parrot, a very possessive bird who only put up with me in the absence of his Papa. Carlo didn't skirt around his loyalty, and in fact would announce, "Papa's Parrot!" to anyone who got too close before flying off Bruce's shoulder and attacking the interloper. I had double-pierced earlobes long before it became fashionable, thanks to that bird, but when Bruce was at work, Carlo was tractable and even affectionate toward me. My mother, on the other hand, was afraid to come through the door if Carlo was sitting on Bruce's shoulder.

One year's blithe September weather found Bruce and I hiking the Wonderland Trail which circles Mount Rainier. When we arrived at our camp in Summerland, Bruce went off to find water while I set up the tent. Suddenly, he burst back onto the scene, shouting for me to follow: "Mama! Come quick! There's a whole tree full of parrots!" He had never seen an Evening Grosbeak, and although he knew they were not psittacines, the size of their bills suggested the nickname.

When Mount St. Helens blew in 1980, the Grosbeaks were on their spring migration. The blast disrupted their flight, blew them off course toward the west, placing our home in their path. Perhaps it was one bird, perhaps half a dozen who found the seed we put out for the finches in our window boxes, but within a week or so, they arrived en masse. Their occupancy of our porch supplied the adjective, and "Porch Parrots" became a thing.

These days, I use "Parrots" to describe Grosbeaks of either species (Evening and Black-Headed) who dine at my feeders, but "Porch Parrots" is reserved for Coccothraustes vespertinus. This scene, a photograph taken only yesterday in my yard, calls to mind the hundred or so "parrots" Bruce first witnessed decorating a fir tree at Summerland.