Results: A Parrot's Adventures with Music

Bongo spent much of his life whistling along with either my father playing piano, or music on the stereo. (Remember stereos?) From my father's journal: One afternoon we had a Maynard Ferguson album playing. Maynard, in case you don't know, was a trumpet player who specialized in the upper register of the horn. Anyway, on one track, Maynard jumped up an octave chorus after chorus, and Bongo tried to reflect that in his whistling. The coda and last sustained note of the tune were very high indeed, and Bongo did his best. The tune ended and Bongo said "Wow!"

My father's singing abilities never lived up to his instrumental skills. Sadly, Bongo has followed in his footsteps. Once he's learned a few words of a song, he doesn't feel the need to master all of the lyrics. And so, here he is (after doing a beak and toes check and a quick vocal warm up) performing his rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

Once when I was younger, I was alone in the woods playing a wooden flute. I looked up - and saw a deer standing nearby. He stayed listening for some time and I was so excited, having my own private Disney moment. In retrospect, maybe he was just frozen in terror. It's easier to tell what a parrot is thinking. Back to my father's journal: On another occasion we were playing the classical violin concertos making up Vivaldi's "Four Seasons." When the music ended, Bongo quietly said, "I love that."