Finding Home

"That one is not for sale," Bill the shopkeeper said firmly to the child. "This green one over here is better for you."

"But I like the red one!" the young child wailed. "Come on now, what is wrong with the red bird?" Bill looked at the father. He was wearing a three-piece suit and had a smile on his face that was a little too confident, wallet in hand.

"He is a scarlet macaw and he bites," Bill said shortly. "You want him to take your son's finger off?" "I am waiting for him to be picked up by a parrot rescue." That was all the father needed to hear to move along, child in tow.

Amy from the Macaw Foundation arrived just as Bill was closing the shop. "So tell me about him," she began while putting on her gloves. "Where did he come from?"

"I don't know," Bill admitted. "He could have been stolen. I bought him from some young man who obviously didn't know the first thing about how to properly care for him, and he was in pretty bad shape at the time." "I nursed him back to health, then called your organization."

"You didn't report him to the police?" Amy frowned at him.

"No, I should have, but this isn't a great neighborhood, you know?" Bill was indignant. "You have to be careful about calling the police on people around here."

"And you never tried to sell him yourself?" Amy asked skeptically.

"Never," Bill answered, serious now. "I swear I never tried to make a cent off of him." "I lost money."

"All right," Amy said, "but I hope to never hear from you again." "If I find out you are selling stolen birds here I will not hesitate to report you." "Now hand me some supplies, will you?"

"No good deed goes unrewarded," Bill muttered. "What are you going to do with him?"

"We are giving him to a vet as part of his rehabilitation for PTSD." "He doesn't live too far from here." "He has been on our waiting list for a long time and he has completed his training." By this time, Amy had already transferred the macaw into her own covered cage.

"In that case," Bill said, "go to Aisle three and help yourself." "Please thank him for his service." And that was the last the scarlet macaw saw of Bill.

The veteran in question, Pete, returned from Afghanistan a year ago and was suffering from deep depression. His wife ended up leaving him when he proved to be unable to hold a job, refused to communicate about his experiences, and wouldn't seek help. He was 35 years old and eager for a parrot companion. He learned how to preen and bathe parrots, passed a home inspection, and had everything prepared. He decided to name the macaw "Trouper." Trouper was an adult male but little else was known about him. He squawked from time to time, but he did not speak. Trouper did not want Pete to touch him, and he kept his distance, huddling into a cage corner. Pete did everything right, but Trouper did not bond with him. One day Pete carelessly left his bedroom window open while cleaning Trouper's cage, and Trouper immediately took flight. Unbeknownst to Pete, Trouper was searching for his mate. And unbeknownst to Trouper, Pete had installed a GPS tracker on his leg.

Following Trouper was one thing, catching him was another. Trouper rested in treetops and never stayed in one particular place for too long. After doggedly pursuing Trouper for three days, Pete realized that Trouper seemed to be attracted to apartment buildings surrounding parks. He would circle the buildings, flying past the windows, before moving on to the next street. Thankfully it was summer so the evenings were not too cold, but Pete was starting to really worry when Trouper settled on a particular windowsill and began tapping on the window with his beak. Pete watched in surprise when a woman opened the window and Trouper hopped into her hands. Noting that it was the third floor corner window on the east side of the building, Pete ran in, up the three flights of steps, and knocked on the door, not thinking that he looked like a man who had been sleeping in his car.

"Can I help you?" Pete could see the woman was pretty with dark eyes and a light brown complexion, late twenties or so, and was viewing him with some alarm. She didn't open the door for more than an inch.

"Yes," Pete said hurriedly, "You have my Trouper, my scarlet macaw." "I saw him tap on your window." "Can I have him back please?"

"Only if you bring the police with you!" the woman retorted, "Davey was stolen from us three months ago!"

"Who is it, Jenny?" Jenny promptly disappeared from view and an elderly man opened the door fully so Pete could see his wheelchair.

"You have my parrot, sir," Pete said, more calmly now - "I have his papers from the Foundation."

"Come in," the man ordered, and something in his tone and bearing made clear he would not accept any argument, so Pete complied.

When Pete entered the livingroom, he saw a dark-haired boy of about eight years old holding Trouper on his arm with delight, and Trouper was showing more affection to the boy than he ever had to Pete. To make matters worse, Trouper began to squawk "I'm home!" "I'm home!''

Pete's heart sank. In the corner of the room was a large birdcage and another identical bird was squawking and flying in the cage as if frantic to get out. There was no way that Trouper's choosing of this apartment was an accident. He resigned himself to losing the bird by the time he sat down on the sofa.

As it turned out, Jenny's father was a retired Army colonel who served in Vietnam. After hearing Pete's story, Col. Martinez invited Pete to come by their home every morning to have some time with Davey and Polly. After a few days, both birds warmed to him, as did the Martinez family. Jenny had moved back home to stay with her father after her son Richard's father left them, and she was studying to be a nurse. Next thing he knew he was bringing them breakfast with him to show his appreciation, and the morning meal was more of a home environment than he had experienced in years. Col. Martinez understood PTSD, as he had become disabled from the Vietnam war, and he was a good listener. Davey began to perch on Pete's shoulder when let out of his cage. In another month, Pete was walking Richard to school after breakfast so Jenny wouldn't need to rush to her own class. When something needed repairing, Jenny called Pete, and she gave him a house key. Richard began whispering to the birds whenever Pete walked in the door.

"What are you doing?" Jenny would ask him, but he would only laugh and say, "I'm teaching him how to say something," he said, "But It's a secret!"

After a year, Pete walked in the apartment one morning, donuts in hand, and Davey cried out,"Pete Home!" "Pete Home!"

Richard began jumping up and down, giggling and saying, "he said it - surprise!"

Pete and Jenny looked at each other, and nothing further needed to be spoken. When Pete and Jenny married six months later, Jenny held a bouquet of red roses and Pete wore a red tie in honor of their scarlet macaws.

"I'd like to make a toast," Amy said at the reception.

The gathered quieted and she raised her glass.

"When I first met Pete, he was having a hard time readjusing to life without conflict, and I never expected to see the positive changes in him that I have." "I didn't know if he would do a good job with the macaw we gave him, and sure enough, he lost him!"

After the laughs subsided, she simply nodded to Jenny and said, "and now you have proof that our parrot rehabilitation program works," and she drained her glass.

Pete stood up. "Thank you Amy," he said, and he raised his glass. "I'd like to thank the thief who stole Davey." "He is not here, I am sure, but if he had not done so, Davey would never have led me to the Martinez family."

"To our birds," Jenny replied, raising her glass.

"To the birds!" the guests shouted. And then they went home.