THE DIARY OF PINK PEARL: KISS KISS, AMERICA! CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN IT’S A WONDERBÜHRDD LIFE by Jes Fuhrmann (Just a taste) “Have yourself a Merry little Christmas!” the soothing voice begins as I close my eyes, visualizing the story. “Let your heart rejoice-z-z-z-z-z-z……” the sounds drift off as the soothing mist of humidity begin to envelope me in sweet embrace. “Peh-h-a-a-h-e-r-l-l-l-l-l…..” the warm, tropical winds blow as I inhale a deep breath of moisture. “Pearly-y-y Bührd-d-d!” they beckon as I crane my neck in an attempt to make out the distant call of a stranger. “Pink! Pearly-y-y Bührd-d-d!” the unfamiliar voice chants again as I blink my soft, white eyelashes and peer curiously around. “Who’s there?” I ask peering through the thick, billowy clouds around me. “It is me, Coty-y-y-y!” the remarkably familiar yet strange voice responds. “Who?!” I attempt again, furrowing my brow as I brush aside the mist with one quick sweep of my long, broad wings now only three imperfect feathers each of total perfection. “I am from Christmas Yhett Tobye!” he responds as I make out the small outline of an angelic-looking white cockatoo. “Where’s that?!” I snicker, noticing the small crest open his little head with a hint of the salmon-colored hue so proudly woven within mine. “It’s from a place that is eight-thousand, nine-hundred and twenty-five hours from the present.” he whispers, “Give or take a few minutes!” he adds with a subtle, calculated wink. “Sounds far!” I grin, as the clouds settle around us. “Hey! What’s that on your belly?” I ask, notice the dark red patch now revealing itself. “What’s what?” Coty gasps, peeking above the frosty, white halo. “That thing. You know, just above where your tail is supposed to be.” I gesture as he lifts his small foot, attempting to look down. “I don’t…” he starts, “Oh that. Yes, yes. I remember now.” he sighs, reaching carefully for something to perch upon. “Umpf, whoah.. Oops!” he shuffles, trying to find firm ground. “That’s what I’ve come to warn our kind about with your help, Pearlybird.” he frowns, glancing with determination into my eyes. “What happened to your feet?” I gasp, noting the stubs where his nails used to be. “It was a long time ago, Pearlybird. You see, I may be small but you and I are very much alike, actually.” he sternly advises. “But how can that be? I’m a Moluccan cockatoo. I’m Pink!” I proudly announce, lifting my tall crest up before turning my head around to give him the full effect. “And I have a tail, see?!” I boast, turning around to shake my money maker. “I, too had a tail and feathers healthy feathers adorning my body, Pearlybird until…” he sighs, looking downward into the poorly positioned halo around his neck. “Until what? What happened?!” I gasp, stepping forward with curiosity. “This very kind, young man with long, silky black hair came into the pet store where I was living and paid many fine dollars to take me home as a gift to his lovely mate.” he sighs, shaking his head in remembrance of a fine Christmas long since passed. “He loved this lady so much and even though she had never shared her life with a bird before, let alone an exotic species from Indonesia…” he continues as my head begins to explode with enthusiasm. “Indonesia?!” I gasp, “But, but I’M from Indonesia! I mean, not directly, of course. My parents came from there and I was hatched in California, United States of America but I remember that when Honey rescued me and they told her that I was from New Zealand and she held up that big, white parrot Bible and said that my subspecies was from Indonesia and then they got all embarrassed because they were really smart with Pee Atche Dee’s and she…” I ramble as Coty frowns with distaste. “SILENCE!” he fiercely interjects, furrowing his angry, white brow as he lowers his small, pink crest. “Oh. I’m sorry…” I wheeze, bowing my head with shame. “It’s just that I only met one other parrot that was just like me and he was very young and perfect and you’re much smaller but you seem so much older and wiser.” I attempt, hoping to make it up to him. “I am six years old!” he grins, lifting his pale, white beak proudly in the fog-filled air. “SIX?!” I gasp, blushing with regret. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you look, um… How do I say this? “Older.” I mean, you’re a bit “follically challenged” on your belly like my Daddy is on his head and you seem quite bright for one so small and well…” I stammer, unable to waltz back into time with my misplaced attempt at a compliment.~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~Thank you for your support to help us save all parrots from neglect and abuse in captivity. Respectfully yours, Jes Führmann, Author The Diary of Pink Pearl, A Birds Eye View (First trilogy of a three part series in America about a Moluccan cockatoo.) amazon/gp/offer-listing/1618635069/ref=sr_1_5_olp?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1385668861&sr=1-5&keywords=The+Diary+of+Pink+Pearl+-+A+Bird%27s+Eye+View&condition=used
Posted on: Mon, 27 Jan 2014 21:07:22 +0000
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