Bird Feed

Sam was smart. A plumheaded parakeet, by four months of age, Sam had mastered many words.

Then came change. He was sold to a lady who took him away. This irritated Sam, who missed conversing with Mr. Bennett, the shop owner, and the other birds in the shop.

Nevertheless, he gamely complied with the lady's instructions. First, she wanted him to say, "Pretty lady." Well, any bird brain could manage that. Next was "I love you." This was insulting his intelligence. When she got to "Thank you for dinner, pretty lady," he wanted to gag. His anger grew with each lesson. He longed for cerebral conversation; he yearned for freedom.

One day, Sam's desire was realized. Not only had "Lady" forgotten to latch the cage door, but she'd also left the screenless window open - just enough. Heart pounding, he soared outside. He set out to find the pet shop. Eventually, though, his wings grew weary. He perched on a tree limb and considered. Where was the pet shop? He realized that the sun was getting lower. What would he have for dinner? In his haste to be free, he hadn't considered this. He began to panic. What would he do for food?
Just as that idea entered his head, he heard his name. "Sam, come back, Sam."

Well, now he knew where his next meal was coming from. Relieved, he flitted from the branch, landing near his owner. Fortunately, she didn't lurch at him but instead talked soothingly.
"Oh, Sam, I'm so glad you're all right. I was very worried."

Sam couldn't believe it. Her concern was genuine.

Bouyed, he glided upward, landing on her arm. Smiling, she took him home and fed him.

Afterward, without prompting, Sam said, "Pretty lady, I love you. Thank you for dinner, pretty lady."