The red visitor perked up. It fluttered across the lawn to cling precariously to the front hedge.
Humbert stopped, the banded paper in one hand. "Lost, little fellow?" he inquired. "Why... you're no cardinal. You're a parrakeet!"
He peered at it more closely. "A beautiful, blood-red, male parrakeet. I never saw your like before."
There was another angry chirp inside. "My pets don't like the draft," Humbert explained. "I'll have to shut this door."
The red bird hopped to the doorstep and up to the closed screen, fluttering against it and falling back.
"You are a tame bird!" he said. He squatted down and held out his hand, but the bird skittered nervously away. He laughed. "Not that tame, I see!"
As he opened the screen the bird hopped forward again. "You want to come in? Where's your home?" But he held the door open and allowed it to fly into the living room.
His wife bustled in from the kitchen holding a jar of instant coffee. "Humbert, did you forget the door again? You know Blue doesn't..." She froze. "Humbert—there's a bird in here!"
"Several, Meta," he said, gently closing the door.
"I mean a wild bird. Look at that color!"
The red parrakeet flew up to the tall decorative lamp and perched on the shade, looking at her.
"He seemed to want to come in," Humbert said. "He's a remarkable specimen, and half tame."
Her attitude changed immediately. "What a beautiful bird! I've never seen a parrakeet that color."
The bird spied the large cage and flew over to it. The three parrakeets inside spooked, plastering themselves against the sides in mad retreat.
Humbert approached and put his hand to the stranger again. "Let me have a look at you, Red. I can't put you in with our family without good references. You might have the mites." But it jumped away from him.
"Check the newspaper," Meta said. "Maybe there's an ad for a lost pet. Such a distinctive bird must be valuable." She disappeared into the bedroom with her coffee.
Humbert eased himself into the easy chair. He had made it a point, since his heart attack, to move slowly and remain unexcited. He spread the paper.
The black headline leaped at him, ALIEN SPACESHIP ORBITS EARTH.
"Meta!" he called.
"Dear, I have to hurry down to the office," her muffled protestation came back. She was active in numerous volunteer capacities as well as holding a part-time clerical position. She preferred to keep herself occupied, now that their children were married and on their own, even though money was no problem.
Humbert shrugged and did not push the matter. Probably the headline would only upset her. He read through the article, finding the information too scant. The newspaper really knew little more than the fact: a strange ship appeared a thousand miles above Earth, and now hung in an oblique orbit. There were statistics: how many minutes it took to circle the Earth, at what times it would pass over which cities, and so on, but nothing essential. There had been no communications, no threats. Just—observation?
Meta bustled through. She always bustled, never walked. "Is there any notice?"
He'd forgotten the bird! "I haven't seen it," he said.
She was already through the door, and soon he heard the car start up. She would be gone for several hours. He glanced at the red parrakeet, who was on top of the cage again, searching for some way to enter.
"Oh, all right, Red," he said, smiling. "I'll introduce you." He opened the cage door and reached in to catch a bird. There was the usual panicked flutter; for the birds, tame as they were, did not really like to be handled.
He snared one and brought it out. "Take it easy, Yellow," he said. Yellow was the youngest and most energetic of their family: a spectacular yellow harlequin with a green underside. He set the bird on top of the cage. "Yellow, this is our visitor from Outside. Red, this is Yellow."
Yellow shook out his feathers, stretched one wing, and sneezed. Having suitably expressed his indignation at being handled, he eyed the other bird warily. It was always this way; parrakeets took time to become acquainted.
Humbert reached in for Blue. She was a timid, retiring bird given to nervous starts and loose droppings, but of very pretty hue. In the right light, a green overcast could be seen above the deep blue breast, as though the yellow of her head had diluted the blue. She bit his finger, not hard, and did not struggle as his hand closed over her wings. Sometimes the birds would perch on his finger, but he hadn't really tried to train them. He set Blue down beside Yellow, but she took flight immediately, afraid of the stranger, and came to rest on top of the front curtains. She settled down to preen her wingfeathers.
"Well, that was Blue," he said apologetically.
He did not try to catch Green, but shooed her out with a wave of his hand. Green was the eldest of the brood and had had more than one owner before. She was a conventional green-bodied, dark-winged female with a neat yellow bib sporting four to six black dots—they kept changing—and she bit viciously when handled. She would come quickly to eat some treat from the hand, however.
"And that's Green," Humbert said as she flew to displace Blue from the curtain. "You'll get to know them all in due course." Green was contentedly chewing the edge of the curtain.
Yellow, seldom cowed very long by anything, was already making the first overture. He strode over to Red and pecked at him. Red sidled away.
"That's the way it is, Red," Humbert said as he reached into the cage to remove the fouled newspaper on its floor. "Very important to establish the pecking order—not that much attention is paid to it here." Yellow was chasing the disgruntled visitor more boldly now. "Just give him a sharp rap on the beak," he advised Red. "You have to assert yourself sometime."
He put in new paper and filled the treat-cups with oats, installing a fourth cup for the newcomer. He stepped back. "Soup's on!"
Green, always alert, arrowed across the room, the beat of her wing washing a breeze past his face. She hopped into the cage and mounted to the row of cups. Seed scattered noisily upon the fresh newspaper as she scraped energetically.
Yellow heard the sound and scrambled across the top and down the side of the cage, using both feet and his beak to hold on. Blue, realizing what she was missing, flew in at the same time. They collided at the door, fluttering for balance, and fell inside. In a moment both were upon the feeding perch, while Green chattered angrily in an effort to protect her claim.
"This is what we call 'King of the Perch,' or maybe 'Musical Treat-Cups,' " Humbert explained to Red, who peered through the wire in some alarm. "The object is to get a cropful of seed without letting anybody else eat in peace. You'll get the hang of it soon enough."
He returned to his chair and watched while Green and Yellow, owners of the two end cups, converged on Blue in the middle. None of the three went near the new cup. While Blue's attention was taken up by Yellow, Green pecked her neck from the other side. Blue squawked and flew across the cage.
"They don't mean anything," he said reassuringly, "it's just a mealtime game, and there's plenty of ordinary seed available in the main dish in case anyone does go hungry. Watch."
Sure enough, Blue flew back immediately to the row of cups, the whir of her wings startling Green into flight. Now Yellow and Blue forgot their differences long enough to do some serious seed-scattering, picking up the hard grains and hulling them adeptly in their beaks. Green scrambled up the side of the cage, using both feet and bill as Yellow had done, and recovered her place before her end cup. All three ate contentedly.
"You'll catch on. Red." he said. "I'll let you be, now." The bird didn't seem to hear him.