Joseph Strout became keeper of Portland Head lighthouse in
1904, following in the footsteps of his father who had been keeper of the
lighthouse for thirty-five years. Keeper
Strout had with him at the lighthouse his father’s pet parrot, Billy, who was
then fifty years old! The elder Strout
had bought Billy at a market on the Barbary Coast in the days when he was a
sea captain. Billy had sailed many a
voyage with Captain Strout and weathered many a storm. Now, Billy enjoyed a quiet life ashore in
Southern Maine. Portland Head was one of
the prettiest spots in all of New England, and its lighthouse was the most
important beacon Down East, as Maine was called.
Billy was no ordinary bird.
He was a gray African parrot, as handsome a bird as likely you’ll ever
see. He also was very intelligent. He liked to sit on Keeper Strout’s shoulder
and bob his head up and down in agreement with everything the keeper said. Sometimes Keeper Strout would utter a loud
sneeze, and Billy would flap his wings and pretend a storm was coming!
When he wasn’t perched on the keeper’s shoulder, he sat on a
long piece of driftwood Mrs. Strout had fetched out of the sea. She put it in the kitchen so she could keep
and eye on Billy while she cooked.
Sometimes she even sang songs to him.
Billy rocked back and forth on his driftwood perch as if waltzing.
The best thing about Billy was that he could talk. He said lots of things, like “hello” and
“Billy want a cracker” and “Billy need a nap.” He said, “All ashore that’s
goin’ ashore,” because he had spent so much time on a ship. He also said some very special things, since
he was a lighthouse parrot. If the fog
rolled in, Billy screeched “Foggy! Foggy!
Turn on the foghorn, Joe!” If the
pressure dropped, Billy shouted “Storm a’coming! Storm a’coming!” And, of
course, when dusk fell Billy yelled, “Joe! Turn on the light!”
One of Billy’s favorite activities was watching Assistant
Keeper Cameron’s son at play. Little Don
was fun to watch, for he always seemed to be getting into some sort of
mischief. Mrs. Strout warned little Don
not to go too near the sea, and Mrs. Cameron forbid little Don to climb on the
rocks below the lighthouse. Assistant
Keeper Cameron told Don to stay away from the foghorn, lest his eardrums be
split by the loud blast. Keeper Strout
just patted little Don on the head and said, “Be careful, boy!” Day after day,
it seemed little Don always was getting into some sort of trouble. And Billy
kept careful watch over him.
On the first day of school in September, when little Don was
six, his mother dressed him in his best white shirt and green pants and
matching jacket. He was going to first
grade!
“Now, go and play until it’s time to head for school,” Mrs.
Cameron said. “And don’t get your nice clothes messy!”
Don wasn’t sure how he could play and still stay clean. But, then something caught his eye. A pretty toy boat lay upon the rocks near the
lighthouse, probably left by some summer visitor. Sailing a toy boat wouldn’t be messy. Don went to the edge of the concrete pier
that surrounded the lighthouse, and then he climbed down the rocks. The little boat was within reach, and Don soon
grabbed it, a smile of satisfaction on his face. But a boat belonged in water. Don looked at the sea. It seemed deep and scary, but he wanted so
much to sail the toy boat. Foolishly, he
threw the little wooden ship into the water.
Its small white sails filled with wind and it began to bounce and jiggle
as the waves tossed it about. Don
gasped, realizing his new-found toy would be dashed to pieces against the
rocks. He had to save it!
He dropped to his knees, then sprawled on the rocks on his
belly and stretched his arm as far as it would go in the direction of the
little pitching boat. Stretch!
Stretch! He felt the buttons
on his new green jacket scraping the rocks.
Stretch! Stretch! SPLASH!
Before he knew what had happened, Don slid off the rocks and
tumbled into the cold sea. His head went
under, then he came up with a gasp and swallowed a big gulp of salty water.
“Help! Glub! Glub!” he gurgled before his head went under
again. Don didn’t know how to swim!
In Mrs. Strout’s kitchen, Billy had been watching little Don
through the window. He knew the boy had
gone too near the edge of the sea, and the moment he saw little Don fall in the
water, Billy began to squawk and hop up and down on his driftwood perch: “Man overboard! Man overboard!”
Mrs. Strout turned from her baking and waved a warning
finger at Billy: “Now, you hush
Billy. You’re not on Captain Strout’s
ship anymore. No one goes overboard on
land.”
Billy ruffled his feathers and bobbed his head
defiantly. “Man overboard!” he yelled
again. But Mrs. Strout turned away and
ignored him.
Billy jumped down from his perch and waddled out the kitchen
door. Keeper Strout and Assistant Keeper
Cameron were in the oilhouse counting cans of oil. Billy hopped over to the oilhouse and jumped
up and down in the doorway, flapping his wings.
“Man overboard! Man overboard!” he squawked.
Keeper Strout paused from his work, looked at Billy, and
chuckled. Assistant Keeper Cameron wiped
the perspiration off his forehead and pointed a finger at Billy: “You are a crazy old bird-brain, Mr. Bill,””
he laughed. “There’s no man overboard at
this lighthouse.”
Desperate, Billy now looked for Mrs. Cameron. Surely, she would listen to his cries. Every mother loves her child, doesn’t
she? He found her hanging wash on the
line before she took Don to school.
“Man overboard! Man
overboard!” Billy shouted, hopping up and down on his scaly legs.
“Oh, shoo! You silly
old bird!” Mrs. Cameron said. “Get away
from my clean wash! Shoo!”
Billy rolled his eyes and shook his green head. He knew he had to do something and do it quick. Little Don was drowning!
Though he seldom flew anymore, Billy stretched his weak old
wings and flapped them wildly until his body lifted into the air. Mrs. Cameron watched in amazement as Billy
went airborne and flew to the edge of the rocks off the lighthouse. There, he dove and disappeared.
“Yikes!” she screamed.
“That crazy old parrot of Keeper Strout’s will drown! Help! Help!”
Running as fast as she could, she came to the edge of the
rocks and looked down at the sea. A
mass of green greeted her – green wings, green feathers, green seaweed,
green fabric. Old Billy was flopping
about in the water tugging on a green piece of cloth. In horror, Mrs. Cameron realized it was
little Don’s jacket. Quickly, she
reached down and grabbed the fabric.
Little Don surfaced and was pulled from the frigid sea. Sputtering, he clutched his mother’s neck and
began to cry.
“Oh, Don! Are you
okay?” she asked hugging the boy much too tightly. He nodded, and she wiped away his tears. They both looked down at the water where old
Billy was still splashing and flapping.
“Man overboard!’ he yelled. Mrs.
Cameron leaned down and pulled the wet old parrot from the water.
“Billy! You aren’t
crazy after all! Why…why…you were trying
to tell me about little Don, weren’t you?” she said. “You saved him from
drowning! Oh, you wonderful old bird!”
Billy coughed a little and shook the water off his
feathers. “All ashore that’s going
ashore!” he rasped. Then he waddled over
the rocks toward the lighthouse, anxious to get back on his cozy kitchen perch.
“Billy need a nap! Billy need a nap!”
By this time, Keeper Strout and his wife and Assistant
Keeper Cameron had arrived. Everyone
laughed when they saw Billy all wet and grumbling about needing a nap. They were glad to see little Don was
safe. Keeper Strout fetched a long hook
and pulled the little toy boat from the water.
Mrs. Cameron hugged little Don over and over, and then scolded him for
getting his new school clothes messy.
“Why, he looks just like old Billy now!” Keeper Strout said.
“He’s a gren, wrinkly old bird! And, he has a great story to tell his friends
and his teacher on the first day of school.”
And, indeed he did, for little Don had been rescued by a
lighthouse keeper’s parrot. He wondered
if his friends would believe it!
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