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.