Parrot 33 and the Mist of Cerro el Peligro

On Father's Day, Cerro el Peligro woke wrapped in a thick fog that blurred the trees and softened the edges of the hillside. Alberto was already at his post. As on any other morning, he prepared three metal trays with fresh papaya, guava, and mango, and set them out on the wooden table beneath the shade of the trees. The fog was duly noted — the Fundación wants to know during which times of year the cerro dawns this way, overcast and damp. What came to feed was well worth the record: the guacamayos released just a few months ago are already moving as a flock. It was not a lone bird, nor two. It was a group, flying and landing together, with the easy coordination of those who have already learned to recognize one another. Among them was parrot number 33 — medallion around its neck, green feathers with yellow at the crown and flashes of red across the wings — perched calmly with a piece of fruit in its beak and the mist of the cerro as its backdrop, mingling with the guacamayos as though it had always belonged there.