Sombrerito and His Own at the Papaya Tree

That afternoon, in the papaya tree of Fundación Loros, four birds turned the green canopy into an open-air dining room. There was Sombrerito — loro amazona amazona, medal B12 — true to his preferences: banana and papaya, always papaya. Beside him, his companion B11, the two of them unmistakable among the foliage by the metallic glint of their bands. A little higher up, a pair of loro real completed the gathering. Omar never managed to spot their medals, but he knows them well: they nest in an oak in the foundation's park, and every so often they make their way down here when the tree calls to them. The foundation's papaya produces year-round, without rest, and the birds know it. They are not satisfied with the sweet orange flesh alone — they also go after the small black seeds hidden inside, the very ones that act as a natural dewormer. A quiet pharmacy, buried within the fruit, that the parrots have discovered entirely on their own. Omar watched them in silence, from below, as their beaks opened the fruit with that unhurried precision that parrots have when they eat without rushing.