The Cockatoos Story | Page 5

my companion; 'we had better not show ourselves for a little. They may be friends; but birds though they are, if they see anything strange in our appearance, they will fall upon us, and may peck out our feathers, if not our very eyes.'"
"After waiting for a little," continued the cockatoo, "and after listening very hard, my companion explained to me she thought we might venture to join the group; for if they weren't cockatoos, they were our cousins the parrots; and in a minute more she spread out her wings, and alighted in the midst of them. They were somewhat startled at first; but on her explaining why she was there, they received her very kindly; and she then called out to me to approach, for I had waited in a bush out of sight, feeling a little shy and nervous. They were greatly delighted with my appearance, and I fear they quite turned my head by their praises. I know I gave myself airs, and strutted about in a manner that would have vexed my poor mother, could she but have seen me. My companion over and over again reminded me to beware of conceit, saying that even in a cockatoo it was a dangerous thing to carry about with one; and that though our cousins were pleased with me at present, they would tire of praising me by-and-by, if they saw how foolish it made me. But I was only a year old at that time, and had always been a little headstrong and difficult to manage.
"As my old friend had said," continued the cockatoo, "my newly-found cousins were not long in finding out my bad qualities, and they were almost harder upon me than my own brothers had been; which caused my temper to give way again, and from being a very frank, obliging bird, I became quite a cross, ill-natured one. One day I had retired to the woods, and was sitting sulking by myself in a bush, when the old cockatoo came and perched herself on the branch above me. For some minutes she sat looking at me without uttering a sound; but every now and then she would shake her head, or raise up her crest in rather a fierce manner. At last I couldn't stand it any longer, and I cried out in a very angry tone of voice, 'Why, what do you mean by looking at me like that? I would rather not be disturbed.' And I gave a very ugly and angry screech.
"'Cockatoo,' said she, 'I am grieved to the heart by your behaviour. Take my advice, sir, and mend your ways, else I fear something bad will come of it.'
"'I will not be interfered with,' I said; 'and I don't care if you never speak to me again;' and I screeched louder and uglier than before.
[Illustration: UNWELCOME ADVICE.
Page 36.]
"I must say she was very good to me, though I couldn't or wouldn't see it at the time; and seeing that I was determined to be sulky and ill-natured, she left me. Two or three days after, a green parrot, that my friend had warned me against, came and sat in a bush near me. He kept chattering away to himself,--speaking about the hard way he was used by the other parrots, and threatening to fly away and see them no more. Now, I had noticed they were rather severe upon him, but I also knew he was not a well-behaved bird by any means; but in my present state of mind I couldn't help pitying him.
"Creeping along the branch, I ventured to inquire what was the matter, when he poured into my ears a perfect shower of complaints against his brothers and sisters, friends and companions, and even against his parents. Two or three times I tried to get in a word of inquiry as to whether some of his trouble had not been brought on by his own conduct; for at that moment I remembered how gently my mother used to speak to me when I used to rage against all the cockatoos in my happy home by the bank of the river. However, it was useless to interfere with him, for the mere mention of the idea made his rage something fearful to witness. The sight of him called to mind, too, what my mother used to say to us when we lay curled up snugly in our nest in the old tree, before my brothers had learned to tease me. 'Children,' she used to say, 'a beautiful plumage is all very well, but a happy-looking face, and a kind, amiable disposition, are to be prized far before the loveliest coloured feathers.'
"This parrot now before me was as lovely a bird of his kind as one would