Monk Parakeet in the Netherlands
A couple of years ago I was with my family near the shore of Echo Bay when I spotted a green, white and yellow bird in a tree. I am no bird-watcher but I know enough to know a parrot when I see one. Figuring that the bird must have escaped and there was some distraught owner looking for their bird, I had the brilliant idea of trying to catch it, put it in a box and deliver it to its owner. While my family tried to lure the bird closer, I called the SPCA of Westchester County to report the bird and see if anyone had put in a claim. The bird actually did come closer, landing on a nearby railing. In a moment of stupidity I used my lightening fast reflexes to grab the bird. As visions of my heroic welcome from the relieved owner danced in my head, the bird began squawking loudly, viscously biting at my hands, breaking the skin, and causing me a good deal of, in hindsight, well-deserved pain. The bird flew away never to be seen by me or my traumatized children. Lesson learned!
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