A cry for help
I was out for a run when I heard it: A high-pitched, piercing call for help. I instinctively turned my head in the direction of the sound. Then I heard it again. "Help!" My heart began racing. I sprinted across the street and over a small bush to the gate of a house from which the distress call came. “Are you OK?" I yelled through the gate. “Help!” another call came. I peered into the courtyard. Then I saw it: An exotic bird, perhaps a parrot, pecking at a plantain. “Help! Help!" it squawked, struggling with the peel. Though I am relieved no one was in danger, perhaps, for the sake of the neighborhood, it would be better to just give Polly a cracker.