The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1898-08-06

vesugations are confined to the cooked
specimens served with cold bottles, and it
is only when he finds himself knee-deep
in trouble that he realizes how little he
| knows about birds" said Mr. Suburbanite
| as he settled himself down in his chair
after deciding TO take the $50 instead of
the SOB for Suburbanville, according to the
New York sun.
Raising chickens upon the farm?'
| asked Brown.
Worse than that" said Mr.. Suburban.
ite gloomily Its a parrot, and I don't
know how 10 get rid of the BEAST
Give II away. cage and all. Some fool
win accept IT," said Brown.
There isn't any cage" continued Mr..
Suburbanite, "and that is the trouble II
has been perched on a high tree just back
of my house for two days and two nights.
IL makes more noise than boiler factory,
and, besides It is impudent and when an
noyed profane"
An suburban parrots are profane."
said Brown. ''They simply can't help it.
l knew leader of a Sunday school once
who moved 10 a suburban town and took
with him modest, well-tIained parrot.
Two months later l went out TO visit him
and in the morning when the breakfast
bell rang that parrot began 10 shout: Why
don't this railroad run a train at decent
hour. Blankety- blanl1-blauk- blank IT, 1t Is
| run by blanke -blank-bian fool! Never
! gives man time for breakfast, blankety-
blank II all" The country, you see, had
ruined that parrots disposition"
That is just the way that the one I'm
my back yard talked" said Mr. Subur-
| banite. 1T was just a dinner hour, the
night before last, that he made himself
! heard. There was a terrible uproar down
the street. A crowd of small boys accom-
| panied by a lot of dogs worked their way
| down the street from tree to tree yelling
| nj all ha p1a I
! heard one shrill, insistent voice calling
| out: You are buns! You are buns!
| Now, ours is a quiet neighborhood, and
this uproar annoyed me. 1t came nearer,
| and suddenly from tree in front of my
house flew a parrot which struggled until
it landed in a tall oak back of the house.
| The chase swept across my lawn and
camped around the tree. That was awk-
ward when the gang had located the par
rot one of the young rascals ran off to no
| tify its owner. The owner, a middle-aged
woman, with a big parrot cage, arrived
with achievements and then began
siege that is not yet ended.
| " Come, Polly, pretty Polly, Polly. Polly
want a cracker?" said the middle-aged
| woman.
Shut UP, shut upH shouted the par
rot. You are buns, buns, buns. Blauke-
| ty-blank-blauk buns
oh, my! exclaimed the middle-aged
woman, never heard Polly talk like
| that
Shut up shrIeked the parrot. Shut
up. You are blankety- blank blank liar
Where is the butcher? Butcher, butcher
! blankety-blank- blank cheat
"After this profanity the middle-aged
woman fled before her identity could be
established. leaving the cage behind her.
The subsequent proceedings were loud and
of no avail. The parrot remained in the
tree and jeered while the crowd beneath
coaXed.
when the small boys threw stones at
the parrot the bird would Shrek at a high
pitch. All this made a nice running ac-
compartment for our dinner. The parrot
finally curled up on a limb as if to sleep,
and the crowd went away. The owner of
the bird was evidently Disguised with 1t
and not inclined 10 make further effort to
capture it. Parrots are queer birds any
way. At daylight yesterday morning 1
was aroused from a sound sleep by loud
cries of:
Get out of here; get out; get outH
81 was dazed with sleep but I tumbled
out of bed, grabbed my revolver and went
on a still hunt for the intruder, determin-
ed to shoot him full of holes. OF course,
there wasn't any intruder. 1t was just
the parrot out in the tree. From daylight
until l came 10 town that bird kept up his
racket. Last evening another effort was
made to capture him, but in vain. An
OtGdSuOHdl oAudii bOy SAlSdhCQ ONSt OuA
lawn and aroused the parrot with a stone,
but it was not until We had retired that
we appreciated fully that birds POSSIBLE
tiles. 1t was about midnight when we
were aroused by shill whistles. I don {
know what stirred that bird up, but he
was in concert form. He whistled, swore,
sung, and then began a series OF excellent
limitations of a sea lions bark. Did you
ever hear sea lion? It's bark is some
thing like the growl of a hyena. This
parrot had il down fine. The bark pleas
ed it, and whenever 1t would slip a note it
would swear easily and volubly. Oh, it
was lovely. AT daylight 1 went out and
emptied my revolver at 1t, but I couldn I
hit the beast. l have been studying up
parrots to-day. 1 find that the surest
way to catch them is the well tried one
Of putting salt on their tails. I can't hit
him with a revolver. Half an hour ago l
received this telegram from Mrs. Subur-
banite: Bring home a shotgun That's
a good suggest ZION and if you hear of my
arrest for shooting birds out of season
you may know that the game was the
parrot. I tell you there is lots of variety
in suburban life, lots of it," and Mr.. Su-
burbanite dashed out to catch the $3.50.