A HUNTERS RARROT.

Evening Star, Issue 3608, 15 September 1874, Page 3

A HUNTERS RARROT.

A correspondent of the Little Rook ( Ark.) * Gazette ’ sends that paper the following account of a common pollparrot, which, it is claimed, has not only been trained to hunt, but which has learned to take a great delight in the chase. The owner and trainer of this hunting parrot is a boatman who formerly plied between the Little Rock and New Orleans, but who some years since gave up the business of boating and has led the life of a hunter, living in a snug cabin at the junction of Big Mammelle Creek with the Arkansas River, The hunter hermit, whose name is Nathan Lask, hi ought with him from New Orleans, on making his last trip to that city, a fine young parrot, to which he soon became more attached than anything on earth. Seated upon his shoulders, the parrot attended him in all his walks. To train the bird was almost his sole occupation. With the careful training of so loving a master, added to its great natural talent for imitating all manner of cries of birds and animals, this bird had become a marvel of cunning, and a great wonder in its way. Taken into the hills bordering Big Mammelle Creek, and the signal being given at intervals, it utters the cry of the turkey so perfectly as to deceive the oldest and most astute gobbler that ever strutted. On being answered by the gobbler the parrot proceeds to lure him to death in the most fiendishly coquettish maimer imaginable. Seated

on liis master’s shoulder charily and coyly the parrot replies. Once he has fully attracted the attention of the vain and anxious gobbler, often allowing him in called in a fretful tone twice or thrice before deigning to answer, he then, in a few low and tender notes, lures the proud bird of the forest within range of the hunter's deadly rifle. Thus are many passing flocks of ducks lured within range of the gun of the hunter. Geese are in the same way called up by this wonderful parrot; also many other wild fowl and even deer, as the bird imitates the plaintiff bleating of a fawn or doe to a nicety. No money would buy the bird, and Nat Lask, seen strolling through the woods gun in hand, and with his almost inseparable companion seated on his left shoulder, seems a second Robinson Crusoe. Although so perfect in his imitations of all manner of birds and animals , the parrot is not a great talker; indeed his vocabulary is limited to a few words and one or two short phrases. He will sometimes sing out, “ Nat, you lubberand when Dan Lanagan (a brother boatman of Nat’s living at the heads of Bayou Forche, and almost his only visitor), in his dug-out is seen paddling in toward the mouth of Big Mammelle Creek, the parrot—whose name, we forgot to say, is Bobby—will shout, “ Lanagan, ahoy ! Lanagan, a-a-hoy ?” The moment Bobby sees his master take down his gun be is in a gre«t flutter. He cocks his head on one side, his great red eyes sparkling with delight, and in a low enquiring tone says: “Turkey] turkey]” “No, Bobby,” Nat will perhaps say, “not turkey to day. “ Bobby cocks his head the other way and softly says : “ Quack, quack, quack,” “Yes, Bobby,” says Nat, “quack, quack!” Bobby then bursts into a loud “ ha, ha, ha !” and cries, “ Nat, you lubber, quack, quack, quack !” Then he “ ha, ha’s ” till the whole cabin rings again. on