Today, when I was walking home from school (omg) drop-off, I heard a bird call that I’ve often heard when I have been sitting quietly, and never been able to identify. A squawk of some kind, but not as harsh and throaty as one of the corvids.
I heard it again and looked up as the bird took flight from one tree to my left and it was a rose-ringed parakeet. I know they’ve moved up north and made it to Birmingham years ago, but I’ve never seen any of them around here. I’ve never seen them outside London, actually.
So, this is really special to me as I love birds, but these are so special. Firstly because yes, they are super pretty and exciting, but also, when I was at school I’d often stop off at King Eddie’s park, in Wembley, on the way home and read a book on warm days. One day there was a cacophony of noise and movement between the trees and it was a HUGE flock of rose ringed parakeets. I assumed they’d escaped from a breeder or pet shop. I went home, told my grandad to get his shoes on, and we went back to the lark on the bus.
My grandad looked like a child with all of the wonder in his eyes at that moment. He was so happy, He might have cried. My grandad LOVED birds (he used to be a budgerigar breeder when he was younger, and just plain loved garden birds), and this was like magic to him.
So, I was having a tough morning, and that one little bird just meant everything.