He came into my life after I visited my uncle’s house and saw how he was being treated: kept in a cage with clipped wings. Seeing the situation, I asked him to give me the parrot. He refused at first, but later showed up at my house and sold him to me. I bought him because, from the beginning, my goal was to help him recover and give him his freedom.
It’s important to highlight how difficult the process was. Reintroducing him to nature wasn’t easy at all. We placed a broomstick on a mamoncillo tree near the house so he could perch there during the day. From that spot, he could see us, and when I walked by with food, he would launch himself, tumble in the air—but never wasted a bite. Of course, I didn’t give him human food; he was used to it, and it was tough to teach him to eat seeds and fruit… but we did it.
It was beautiful to see his eyes change color with each flavor, and seeing his face smeared with food filled my soul with joy. The parrot—who I later found out was actually a female because she was deeply in love with my husband—was extremely jealous: she would peck at any woman she saw talking to him. I just laughed and gently pulled her off their hair. They’d say, “What a jealous parrot!”
Roberta was learning to fly… crashing into everything, chasing me around the farm, until one day she climbed up the mamoncillo tree, let out some cries—almost as if shouting “Here I go!”—and launched herself into the air. She screeched and spun, showing us she could do it. We were thrilled. She landed in a tree on the neighbor’s property, and off I went to rescue her. That’s how it went for months as her wings healed.
She eventually flew happily around the neighborhood; she’d follow me on the motorbike, and I had to carry her on my shoulder. When I didn’t, she’d find wherever I was. One day, she showed up at my basketball practice, entered the gym, chased me down, and made me carry her back home… not without pecking a few of my teammates first.
She also showed up at my SENA classes, screaming. She came in through the roof, spotted me, and I had to take her home. Sometimes I wondered if she would come back—she flew far, and I’d call her with a whistle. She’d return… but when she didn’t, I knew someone had taken her. I rescued her four times. The last time was with the police. They already knew her and knew she had been rescued. I told them about her story and that the plan was to release her into the wild.
I remember that day clearly: I called my police friend and told her Roberta had been “stolen”; I knew where she was. She came quickly and helped me. We discovered her wings had been clipped again… I cried so much. The recovery was slow, but with patience and love, she learned to fly again.
Eventually, we understood that letting her go was the best thing. Roberta made that choice herself: she began leaving and only came back to sleep. I prayed she was okay. The most wonderful moment came when she returned several times with a flock of her species… all loud and beautiful. It seemed like she was telling them about us and the food—we’d watch her lead them to eat, and then they’d fly off again.
She came with a mate, and later, with a baby. I cried with joy seeing what we had helped her achieve. She taught us how to love and fight for freedom. She built a family and came back to show us she was okay—perhaps to say thank you.
Even though she was no longer with us, we knew she was happy with her flock. We learned that these animals are not meant to be pets… they deserve their freedom. What remains is her beautiful memory and the deep satisfaction of having honored the life she chose to live—wild and free.