Just shy of his 29th year, most of Toby’s days were alike. He would sit patiently, contemplate the moment, asking very little for himself, except the usual head scratch that he would screech for at 8 p.m., every day, like clockwork. He had me well trained.

From early on he was able to learn several words, mostly from hearing them repeated, which I was not aware he was learning until he pronounced one with the same high pitch and clarity of my own voice. It would startle me, actually. And, he never forgot a single word for the next 336 months.

All wrapped up into one, he was the “kid” I never had, a best friend, cheap entertainment and he held a lot of history about me that most will never know.

Having lived in Maine in my very early years, I decided at 25 that it was time to move from Pennsylvania back to this beautiful state.

And so it was that I packed up my Subaru with all of my prized possessions in the back, including my newly acquired cockatiel. We made the trip in record time; he “chatted” the whole way, making me feel safe and secure, all six ounces of him. We arrived to the welcome arms of my grandmother on Easter Day, and while she did not admit it to me at the time, she was terrified of her gray feathered guest.

As the weeks turned to months, I watched her feed him crackers each morning; he’d already received his morning prayer as she read him verses from her favorite book. As it turned out she taught him to “whisper” because they both rose very early for their reading, and were gracious enough to let me sleep in.

the end our stay, he had learned his final words, “Hi, Grandma.”

When he passed away on St. Patrick’s Day, we were heartbroken. At the last minute the day before, I decided to “just take the day off” on the 17th. A walk on the beach that afternoon produced 16 sand dollars; I was amazed because in 20 years I have managed to locate only 3. With my collection in hand, I walked into the house in near amazement at my gifts from the sea. As I laid them out on the counter, I noticed that Toby was very quiet and so I went to check on him. He was high up on his perch, and clearly in distress.

With tears in my eyes, I wondered if he might want the gentle scratching he craved each night. As my fingers gently approached him, he gave me a warning that produced a drop of blood on my finger; I knew he wanted me near but that these last moments would be on his terms and I respected that as we mutually did each other over the years.

Our house is very quiet these days, but when I look at birds flying freely outside, and hear their chirping, I can’t help but think that Toby is out there too, keeping a close eye on us.