Posters of a striking, emerald-green, missing parrot with beautiful round eyes began appearing on my feed. His name was Arthur, and something about him seemed to radiate personality. I am always sad when I see a pet is lost, and immediately felt for Arthur’s owners, who I was sure must have been frantic.
I was transported to the time when our family dog, Sandy, went missing in Bellshill, Scotland, during my early childhood. Sandy had soft white curly fur (probably part poodle), pointy pink ears and a sandy-coloured stripe down his back. Our street neighbours joined in the search, calling his name, checking gardens, knocking on doors. In the end, it was my sister, Louise, who trusted her instinct, knocked on the right door and found our beloved pet (he’d been stolen).
Arthur the parrot’s story unfolded decades later in London. He wasn’t stolen, he was startled. One afternoon, a cat jumped on top of his outdoor cage, bending the netting just enough to open a small gap. Terrified, the four-year-old parrot launched himself skyward over the top of the cat and vanished beyond the rooftops.
Christy Zetta King, his owner, was at home at the time. “I was working on my laptop when Arthur was in his outer cage, getting his vitamin D,” she says, when I visit. “It was all over so fast. Before I could react or yell, it was too late. Arthur flew off. I knew he’d be disoriented. Parrots don’t have a homing instinct, like pigeons. He wouldn’t know how to get back. Immediately we went into rescue mode, calling for him loudly, even with a megaphone, as the first thing we taught him was to come to us when called.”
Christy and her partner, Michael Zmahar, like her a successful author from Slovenia, moved to London only two years ago with Arthur and Lexi, their incredibly elderly and wonderfully sprightly 19-year-old “golden something” rescue dog. What happened next surprised them.
“London is nothing like Slovenia,” Christy explains. “There, if you lose a pet it’s just: good luck! But here, everyone helped. People put out seeds and water, texted us, called his name in the streets. Kids rode off on bikes to look for him. We were shocked, in the best way.”
Michael agrees: “Our neighbours on this street are Ukrainian, French, Lebanese, Chinese, Indian — everyone came out. First, they thought, who’s yelling with a megaphone? But then they joined in.”
While the couple scoured the streets and posted online, neighbours spread the word on WhatsApp and Nextdoor. Christy notified parrot-alert groups, and posted flyers on trees. “We received about 100 calls that day,” says Christy. “Arthur was spotted up a tree in the park, then over on Willesden Lane, a mile away.”
After nearly 48 hours, salvation came from a young Brazilian couple, Liz and Rafa, who lived in a flat five storeys up beside a towering tree. They heard squawking at their window and saw a vivid green bird with red feathers perched about a foot away. They offered him a banana, which he ate. The ever-sociable Arthur eventually climbed on to an arm and was brought inside.
“Rafa and Liz don’t speak a lot of English, so didn’t even know he was missing,” Christy adds. “Arthur is an Eclectus parrot from the Solomon Islands, a special bird, not something you usually see in Willesden! He’s vulnerable to cats, foxes and other birds. Liz had done so much research on parrots, what to feed them, how to behave around them. She contacted the parrot society that I had previously notified. They told her to identify the ring around his leg and ask me for the ID number. Once she knew we were the owners, she sent a video of him eating the banana. We were so happy our boy was with good people.”
Arthur was soon returned. “He got lost on Saturday afternoon, he was at their flat by 8pm that night, and we were reunited Monday,” Christy says. Meeting Arthur in person, I understand the attachment. He’s great with me, very playful, just as Christy and Michael trained him to be – familiar and friendly with people.
At one point he tries to nibble my earrings before giving me a kiss and sticking his tongue out. He even poses for photos by bending his head from side to side. As well as an ear-splitting loud squawk, he boasts a wide vocabulary in both Slovenian and English, and happily shouts phrases like “Good bird!”, “What’s up?”, “How are you?” and of course, his own name. “He’s such a goof,” Christy laughs.
Michael points out that although people meet him, love him and then want to own a parrot as a pet, they don’t realise the commitment required. “It’s like caring for a five-year-old who could live for 40 years. They’re super smart, demanding and full of personality. People don’t realise the level of work, expense and responsibility.”
I am touched to hear that the search for Arthur also involved one very special neighbour, who was the first to hear him after his escape. “A woman four doors down, who is blind, spends her days listening to birdsong in her garden,” Michael says. “She heard a strange-voiced bird and contacted us. ‘Does your bird call his own name?’ she asked. ‘Yes,’ we replied, ‘that’s him, that’s King Arthur!’”
The ordeal left Christy and Michael with more than relief. “It was stressful, of course,” says Christy, “but also uplifting. We’ve never felt this kind of support anywhere we’ve lived before. London gave us kindness, good energy, protection, and we got Arthur back.”
After another parrot kiss goodbye, I head home. I think of the day Louise brought Sandy home in her arms. I visualised him jogging up our hallway to greet me, his tail wagging, my fingers in his furry curls.
Foll0w Julie Hamill on Instagram. Enjoy Christy and Michael rejoicing in Arthur’s return here. It’s just as well that Arthur wasn’t stolen: very few pets reported stolen in the capital are recovered.
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