Writer and film producer Dana Wilson has never met an Amazon she didn't like, including Bertie, formerly Wilson's dentist's bird.

A CUB REPORTER covering his first major exhibition of Picasso’s works in Paris asked the great Impressionist, "Sir, which one is your favorite?"

Picasso rolled his eyes and shot back, "That’s like asking me which is my favorite finger. None! I like them all!"

That's how I feel about parrots. I love them all. But, okay, if I were forced to choose just one species of parrots to spend the rest of life with on Gilligan's Island, I would have to choose the aristocrat of the rainforest, the amazing Amazon, with its plucky personality and bold self-assured gestures as colorful and varied as its magnificent plumage. There would never be a dull day on the island with Amazons as buddies, beachmates, pranksters, protectors, and most of all, star-quality entertainers.

Contrary to most parrot enthusiastists, I have never met an Amazon I didn't like. Blue-front, yellow-naped, lilac head, double yellow-headed, mealy, St. Vincent. They all had those trademark Amazon matinee-idol eyes and "Why-don’t-you-come-up-and-see-me-sometime" body language. I admit it, I'm totally hooked on hookbills and on Amazons especially.

On one hand, "Fly me to the moon" seems to be their theme song and on the other, rock concerts their venue. If Amazons did rock concerts, Jagger and McCartney would be out of work. What other parrot is swashbuckling enough to have crossed the seven seas as a bird buccaneer aboard the shoulder of some of the world's most notorious pirates?

I never cease to be amazed by Amazons and how they charm their way through our lives. Just jitterbugging the time away. Hanging out. Laughing. Singing. Dancing. Romancing. And making absolute fools of people who love them. And some who don't. They bring new meaning to the words outgoing, extroverted and polished. Not many parrots, let alone people, are as magnanimous, open, direct, and as certain as Amazons are that they are nature's gift to the universe.

Every day it's a beautiful life for Amazons. They wake up singing, "O,What a Beautiful Morning. O, What a Beautiful Day!" And with their cornfed good looks, no one has to convince Amazons that the world loves them. That's as certain as everything is chewable.

Natural-born social climbers, they love hooking up with the right people and climbing their way to the top of a shoulder or head. They can fall in love at the drop of a feather, dance to almost any beat, any time, get into any melody or rhythm and sing it passionately and always off-key. I love the way Amazons hold their heads up high, with beaks open wide, lower beak quivering, chests swelling, eyes flashing and tail feathers flaring as they belt out songs loud enough to be heard all the way to the rainforest. Or wait coyly for the perfect moment to let loose a Phyllis Diller laugh that cracks up everyone within hearing range.

Their Jimmy-Buffet-laid-back-totally-cool style and in-the-moment-let-it-be philosophy makes them sooooo above it all. Sooooo in touch with nature. Soooooo evolved. No doubt they're very old souls. Some would call their insatiable curiosity and boldness to go where no bird has gone before a license to stick their beaks into everything, which of course they do. In Mensa for Animals, their high intelligence puts them in the same league as elephants, apes and dolphins. Only they're more verbal about it.

Although the initiated know that Amazons are masters at behavior modification and they can train, educate, mold, con, manipulate and push people around, it's hard not to let them. They're sooooo smooth. We're like a ripe grape in their beak.

One drop-dead-gorgeous, 17-year-old blue front I know, Bertie Marie Caroline, is the Amazon's Amazon in my book and sums up the wonderfulness and magic of these Latin American charmers. I'll never forget the first time I met Bertie at my dentist's office. (Yes, I went to this dentist because I heard she had a parrot.)

Bertie was perched serenely in her bell-shaped, polished brass cage, assuming a Zen-like pose, no doubt meditating. When I saw her, I was speechless. And when she saw me, she wasn't. She shot out of the opening on top of her cage, pulled herself up to full height, lifted her wings and broke into "Ode to Joy," the parrot version.

I responded with "Ode to Joy" the human version at the top of my lungs. The dentist and her patients, somewhat shaken, bolted out of the examination rooms and surrounded us, looking on in awe and wonder as if next we were going to open our wings and fly them to the moon. We didn't have to open our wings. We were already flying. That's what Amazons do for me. And that's why they're my favorite parrots. End of story.

And oh yes, Bertie Marie Caroline? She no longer works in a dentist's office. That's just where she was discovered. She now lives in luxury as a diva, socialite, czarina and philosopher, in my home.

ParrotChronicles.com

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