THE UNMISTAKABLE SCREECH of a parrot splits the silence. A silhouette appears, beckoning me closer. Is that the arc of a wing, or the breeze playing with a leaf? I listen and watch intently, eyeing a dark shape that might be a bird perched close by.

The foliage trembles, the shadow explodes in a flutter, and I am rewarded. "EEEEEEeeeeee! Maaaaapaaaaaaa!! Vasuriiiiii!" a bird screams lustily. But what am I hearing? Are these the words of some rainforest dialect, or merely parrot-ese, made up in the moment?

Apekiva, an orange-wing Amazon, and Papetta, a blue-front Amazon, make themselves at home in the Yale art studio of Rachel Berwick.

"Sue, do you believe it's feasible to teach a parrot to speak an extinct language?" the woman across the table from me is asking. I rouse myself from my reverie. "And if so, do you think it's possible to include this bird in an art exhibition in a gallery setting?"

It's June 1996 and I'm in the Newton, Mass., public library meeting with Rachel Berwick, a conceptual artist and faculty member of the Yale School of Art. Rachel wants to create a living work of art - using a parrot - and she's come to me for advice.

The proposed exhibit is a 10-foot-wide-by-10-foot-tall cylindrical aviary with translucent polypropylene walls and a central column of light illuminating it from within. Inside the aviary, Rachel wants to place a parrot that has been taught to speak Maypure, a South American language last uttered hundreds of years ago. Visitors to the exhibit will hear the parrot's disembodied voice and glimpse its shadow, but won't be able to actually see it. The idea is to focus visitors' attention on the language being spoken.

The end effect, Rachel hopes, will be not only a haunting live reproduction of words long gone, but the resurrection of a fantastic historical tale, too. According to legend, famed 18th-century explorer and naturalist Alexander von Humboldt was traveling along the Orinoco River in what is now Venezuela when he happened upon a Carib Indian tribe. When he asked his hosts why their pet parrots were speaking a dialect different from their own language, the Indians told von Humboldt the birds had belonged to the Maypure tribe, whom they had recently exterminated during tribal warfare. The birds were spoils of war. To von Humboldt's amazement, the parrots were the last remaining speakers of the Maypure language.

The language and the legend
von Humboldt's meticulously detailed journals don't corroborate the legend of the parrots, unfortunately. However, they do contain the Maypure words he heard on his travels, transcribed phonetically since Maypure existed only in spoken form. Rachel wants to recreate both the language and the legend, with the help of a living bird. Can it be done?

I pause for a long moment, trying again to visualize Rachel's concept. I have worked with parrots and people for many years but this is a novel challenge for me - and for Rachel, who knows almost nothing about birds. Rachel already has walked a long road to find me. She has spoken with veterinarians, bird breeders and exhibitors, most of whom have told her it can't be done. When Rachel calls Featherlust Farm Bird Store, a parrot specialty store in Old Saybrook, Conn., not far from Yale, owner Timothee Graze, an accomplished artist as well as parrot breeder and owner, tells Rachel I might be interested.

And I am. The project is chockfull of ethical and logistical challenges, yet I cannot dismiss the idea that it just might work. I give Rachel a rundown of my concerns about exhibiting a live bird and my requirements for meeting its needs. I am encouraged by her enthusiasm - she appears genuinely willing to commit to whatever it takes to build into the sculpture only the best of conditions for a parrot.

That day in the library we agree to meet again to iron out the details. I encourage Rachel to work with two birds rather than one for companionship. I recommend Amazons, preferably blue-front or yellow-nape species, due to their reliable interest in vocalization. Amazons also happen to be indigenous to the region where the Maypure legend is said to have taken place.

I will train Rachel and her helpers to care for the parrots and help them design an aviary interior that's safe for the birds. Although it will be a long time until a permanent adoptive home is needed, another goal is to introduce a new owner into the birds' lives as soon as possible. I have a feeling that person will be Rachel, but until that becomes a reality the search is on.

Last but by no means least is the challenge of developing and implementing a language training program for the birds. We have 13 months in which to teach the parrots to speak Maypure while the aviary is being built.

Rachel gives the exhibit the working title of "von Humboldt’s Parrots."

Looking for von Humboldt's parrots
To recreate the von Humboldt legend, I've recommended that we use two young, hand-reared birds unencumbered by an English vocabulary. They will be difficult to find for the amount in our budget, about $1,000, but I possess the optimism of someone freshly involved with a project and full of idealism.

My first call is to Martha Phippen, owner of The Bird and Reptile Connection in Walpole, Mass. Martha says she has two beautiful young Amazons, a blue-front and an orange-wing, who have been caged together since arriving nearly a year ago. She wants to place them together and is willing to sell them for the exact amount I had been going to offer. I am beginning to believe that this project is really meant to be.

Artist Rachel Berwick shows Amazon parrots Papetta and Apekiva a "mapa," the Maypure word for honey used to designate a treat.

On July 1 we collect the birds and take them for a checkup at Windhover Veterinary Center in Walpole. Given a clean bill of health, they then go to Rachel's studio at Yale, which has been outfitted with a roomy cage, toys and food.

Basic logistical details set in place and birds ensconced in the studio, Rachel dubs her new collaborators Papetta and Apekiva, two Maypure words she likes. The birds make a seamless transition into their new life at Yale and the training sessions begin.

Rachel posts a large sign outside her studio that warns, "Only Maypure spoken beyond this point"; any conversations in English must be conducted in her adjacent office. She hangs Maypure crib sheets around the studio and hands them out to arriving volunteer students Iris Binor and Anne Gardiner. Over the next year, trainers will come to include friends and colleagues of Rachel's, too.

Next page | Maypure spoken here | 1, 2