Friday arrived on horseback, in the saddle bag of an itinerant trader. I was six years old and living in northern Nigeria. We’d had pets before, but Friday was different – a handsome African grey parrot with a bright-red tail who swiftly claimed a place in the family pecking order. Only Mum ranked above “him” – as we assumed her to be, until she hit puberty at around seven years old and laid an egg (an existential shock for us all).
Her relationship with each family member was different: she would box, beak to knuckle, with Dad; bill and coo with Mum (sicking up nuts was the height of passion); fight viciously with my younger brother, yet welcome him excitedly back if ever he went away; and condescend to go walkabout with me on a good day.
