Winston the Parrot

Kent, 1942 — the room smelled of tobacco and feathers. Winston, a green Amazon parrot, perched on a radio set, tilting his head at the static. His handler trained him to carry coded messages between posts — short flights, quick returns, crumbs for reward.

He served faithfully through the Blitz, then one morning refused. No coaxing, no command worked until someone offered him a biscuit. He took it, flew once, and never again without payment.

By war’s end, he had outlasted two radios and four handlers. The War Office marked him “retired.” The local pub kept him in beer and conversation until 1955.