I came out of the San Diego Photographic Museum this afternoon after my weekly volunteer stint, and the bird rescue people and parrots were in their usual place. One of the birds was barking like a dog, and another was whistling. The orange beauty that’s the subject of my picture for the day was much too dignified to bark or whistle or perform in any way at all. He (Yep, I asked about the sex of the parrot... I asked the rescue guy, not the parrot, making sure, of course, he [the rescue guy] knew I was asking about the parrot ) knew he was fantastic and didn’t need to do tricks to draw attention to himself. As a matter of fact, that parrot gave me a look... more than one look... and it was clear he was looking at me and not someone else in the crowd... seeming a bit annoyed that I kept snapping pictures... or perhaps he was just letting me know that he knows he is beautiful.

I considered telling him about the hundreds of blue and gold macaws I once saw swooping around some clay cliffs deep in the Amazon Basin, but I decided against it. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to say I think they were more terrific than he is. The rescue guy must have sensed that the orange parrot and I had something going. He came over and told me the orange parrot was a hybrid. The bird looked away. I wanted him to know it didn’t matter a bit to me that he was the result of a breeding experiment...