It Was Hard to Pin the Blame: The Children, Dashing Off to the River, Forgot to Lock the Parrot in Its Cage, and When Grandma Returned from the Shops, She Threw the Window Wide Open

Finding someone to blame proved a tricky business. In the rush to dash down to the river, the children had forgotten to secure the parrot in his cage. Then, when Grandmother returned from the greengrocers, she flung the window wide open. As a result, that evening, when we realised Charlie was missing, it became clear our handsome Amazon had vanished without a trace.

For three days and three nights, we abandoned all our usual routines, traipsing across the little holiday village hunting for our lost companion. But our efforts were in vain. No one had seen Charlie. The children wiped tears down their cheeks, Grandmother sighed mournfully, Oh, oh, oh, dear me, and my husband and I alternated between scolding the children and reproaching our elders.

And yet, it was quite impossible those days to scold our own dog, the Airedale terrier, Daisy. She was plunged in the deepest gloom. Daisy only seemed at all herself when the doorbell rangthen she would gallop down the hallway with a raucous bark, but upon realising her voice rang out alone, shed stop abruptly, cast a lonely glance around, and shuffle back to her rug. For four entire years, the sound of barking had heralded our guests. Charlie barked like a true virtuososometimes it seemed he was even better at it than Daisy.

Imitating the dog was Charlies first trick as a parrot. As a mere fledgling (green in every sense), hed taken to tormenting the old cat, Tilly, in just that way. He would sidle up to the snoozing Tilly and, at full volume, bark right in her ear. Tilly would leap up with a piercing meow, which brought Daisy running with her own uproarious howling, and all at once chaos would rule the house.

Tilly tolerated Charlie, though one often had the feeling she barely managed to. Daisy, on the other hand, was smitten with himtruly and tenderly. Charlie would perch on Daisys head (in more ways than one!) and, more often than not, lecture her at length, mimicking Grandmothers scolding tone:
Whos going to finish the porridge?
And then, after a dramatic pause, hed add in a chiding voice,
We arent keeping pigs, you know!

The dog reacted to Charlies sermons exactly as the children responded to Grandmothersnamely, she ignored him entirely. Sometimes, when Charlie was especially persistent, Daisy would knock the nagging bird off with a quick flick of her tongue.

To be short, Charlies disappearance was accepted by all save for Tilly as a personal tragedy. After a couple of weeks, just when wed grown resigned to the sad idea we might never see our dear chatterbox again, rumours began to drift round the village. In the flock of crows plundering the garden orchards, a newcomer had appeareda brazen, bright-green one with a scarlet face. Not only did this bold bird caw loudly, he could also bark and, to our horror, swear with the most impeccably human tones. This last discovery nearly dashed the faint hope flickering in our hearts. Our family knew such words, of course, but had always avoided them in polite conversation. Still, realising that our little prodigy might have picked up a rogues vocabulary in his freewheeling new life, we renewed our search for our wayward bird.

A stroke of luck came ten days later. As I was bending over the strawberry patch, a familiar voice sounded behind me:
Well, what now?
And there sat my dear Charlie perched in the cherry tree, surrounded by a few black-feathered cronies feasting on the fruit.

Charlie, come here, dearest! Come let Mummy spoil her boy, I have some lovely sunflower seeds just for you

Charlie cocked his head in thought.

Charlie, weve all missed you terriblyyour father, Sally, Will, and Daisy. Come here, little one

Stretching my hand out slowly, I edged nearer the tree. I nearly reached the branch but

HehBakers children! Charlie retorted slyly, in perfect imitation of the allotment association chairman, and with his feathered companions, fluttered off for good measure.

Charlies life of liberty lasted until the first frost. He would appear near our cottage now and then, but there was no persuading him. Implored to return to the warmth of our family, he would philosophise with a throaty caw and fly off into the open sky.

As autumn deepened, people began to spot Charlie on his own, more and more often. He lingered around our garden looking rather forlorn and ruffled, perching on the fence or in the trees, but he refused to come close. In the end, we brought in the big gunsDaisy. Whatever she said to her old friend, I will never know, but Charlie came back inside with his head held high, perched proudly on the back of his beloved ginger dog.