Alex-less thinking

Alex the African Grey parrot is dead.

This is a loss to many people, and a loss to me. For 31 years (out of an anticipated lifespan of 50-70 years) Alex has been blazing trails in science. He was purchased in a pet store in Chicago on July 5th, 1977 by a researcher named Irene Maxine Pepperberg. She deliberately allowed the store manager to pick out the bird from a group of 12-15 month old African Greys. She wanted the selection to be reasonably random as she wanted to study the ability of such birds (renowned for their ability to communicate since the time of Aristotle) to actually do so under scientifically controlled conditions in order that she might understand their cognitive abilities.

Lots of birds can learn to imitate sounds. I have heard that if you split the tongue of a crow it can learn words, although I have never seen such a thing and cannot understand how such a discovery could ever be made. Myna birds talk, in the sense of reproducing sounds they have heard, although there is no apparent communicative intent. I own an eclectus named Charlie who says "I love you," "Gloria" and a bunch of other stuff mostly in Korean. (He spent his formative years in the house of a Korean friend of Gloria's.) None of what he says seems to have communication as its intent, although some may disagree. Charlie, when I challenge him, has yet to do so.

I heard about Alex several years ago from my friend Liz Lee. Alex, she told me, could use words to communicate ideas, and could put together words he already new to express new thoughts. I'm not sure I entirely believed her at the time, but it really stuck in my mind. An example (true) is this: Alex had learned to describe objects by color, shape, size, number and several other attributes (read the book.) One day he was given corn on the cob to eat without being given its name. The next day he asked for "more long yellow... more long yellow...'

I like ideas. I love math and teach it because it is the study of the interplay of pure ideas stripped of the mundane reality of specific meaning. (My interest is evidently in what is called pure mathematics rather than applied mathematics in which I have little interest. I don't wish to debate the relative merits of either. I'm old and can love whatever I want. Forgive me Mr. Kite, for thinking your very astute intelligence will have the necessary counter-examples. Logic will no longer change my mind, completely overcome by my affection.) To examine the thinking processes of a bird seems to me to be examining the interplay of pure ideas, and of ideas formed in a very alien brain. (Think T-Rex. That alien a brain.)

So Alex enthralled me and I bought and studied Dr. Pepperberg's very scholarly book, The Alex Studies. It is wonderful, although it ain't casual reading.

It's fascinating and I immediately understood that it was necessary for me to get an African Grey to live with me. Last Christmas I got one as a gift for Gloria. I called her to give her the good news. She declined the gift, sensibly enough, so I bought the bird as a gift for my dog Vinnie. I named the bird Scipio after Vinnie declined to offer any name other that "Arf," which isn't right for a bird.

Scipio, now known as Skippy, is a male. I learned this by paying big bucks for a DNA test, the only way to kn ow for sure short of watching who gets on top under the right conditions, which are not about to be offered.

I planned a sabbatical during which it was my intention to teach him everything that Alex knew, and more. Alex was my ideal, the goal, the dream. He set the bar and he set it very high.

The night before dying he said something approximating this: "Will you be in tomorrow?" to which the answer was "Yes', Ill be in tomorrow." But tomorrow morning, he was dead in his cage. Nobody yet knows why but his vet is returning early from vacation to try to figure it out.

I find the world a smaller place without him. Skippy seems relieved.