My Jaco, like all parrots, which are excellent imitators, pronounces a few words and repeats them over and over again.  Such birds amuse us because the words they know sometimes happen to be ludicrously fitting.  A bird of this kind had been struck by the note sounded by the wind blowing into a room through a crack in the glass work whenever a certain door was opened; and he had become so perfect in his imitation that they sometimes, on hearing the noise, went to shut the door when it was not open.

Jaco formerly belonged to a very pious old lady who was accustomed to say her litanies with another person.  He had caught the words “Pray for us,” in the invocations to the several saints, and said them so well as sometimes to deceive his learned mistress, and cause her to think she was saying her litanies with two colleagues.  When Jaco was out of food, and any one passed by him, he would say, “My poor Cocotte!” or “My poor rat!” in an arch, mawkish, protracted tone that indicated very clearly what he wanted, and that his drinking cup was empty.  There was no doubt in the house as to his meaning; and whenever one heard it he said:  “He has nothing to eat.”  He was exceedingly fond of fresh pits of apples and pears, and I was in the habit of collecting them and keeping them to give him.  So whenever, as I came near him, I put my hand into my pocket he never failed to say:  “Poor Cocco!” in a supplicating tone which it was impossible to mistake.  A sugar plum is a choice morsel to him.  He can tell what it is from a distance when I hold it out in my fingers; and when I give it to him he cannot restrain himself if it has been any considerable time since he has had the delicacy.  Usually, after having made the first motion to get it, as if he were ravished and wanted to express his joy in advance, he would draw back before taking it, and say, in a comical tone, “Hold, my poor Cocotte!” His manner of thanking in advance is likewise amusing.  The expression of his eyes and the pose of his head are all in accord with the tone of his exclamation.  When he tastes the plum he utters a series of ahs, and produces a kind of warble by prolonging some of his notes and shortening up others.  We find in these examples, without doubt, that the articulate voice makes us better able to judge the meaning of the impressions that are moving the animal than inarticulate cries, or merely musical sounds.  When Jaco met a child for whom he had a great affection, he would promenade on his perch, or turn the wheel, spreading out his tail and ruffling the feathers of his head, while his eyes grew red with excitement if the child was too slow in bestowing the accustomed caress.  Then he would stop, bend down his head, and, looking at his friend, say pleasantly, “Jaco,” in a tone and with a manner quite in contrast with the pronunciation of the same word when he was hungry.