John Boatwright, 79-year-old proud Auburn man, did what any War Eagle alum would do when his blue-headed Amazon parrot named Jacky slipped through a crack in the sliding glass doors and flew away.
He yelled out, as loud as he could, "War Eagle!"
"I had opened the doors about 18 inches, just to feed the birds outside," Boatwright recalled of the April 8 escape. "And Jacky just must have seen the opening, and she flew right past my head at about 90 miles an hour.
"Brushed me right on top. I thought she was gone forever."
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Even though Boatwright had lived in the jungles of Panama during his workdays as a civil engineer, and had heard a million parrots screeching, he missed Jacky saying what Jacky usually said: "Hello?" when the phone rang, and "Mommy."
The parrot had grown up in a house with little kids, so it said the word said most often in that house: "Mommy."
"But what was I gonna do, call 911 for a missing bird that likes to say 'Mommy?' " Boatwright said. "She was gone."
Boatwright sent word to the person who gave him Jacky for companionship two months ago: daughter Terilynn Storey. Storey is not just Boatwright's daughter; she is a bird lady.
Her husband is a large animal veterinarian, and she runs a horse boarding business. She also operates TLC In-Home Bird Boarding and Sitting - meaning she watches people's birds while they are away.
Storey posted news of the lost bird in the Craigslist pet section, described from where the bird was gone and how to reach her, and passed out business cards around Tega Cay.
Then the hailstorm of April 9 roared through, and all thought Jacky would perish.
But on April 10, a woman from Tega Cay called Storey to say she saw the parrot in a tree about a half-mile from Boatwright's home, on a street called Mariana Court.
"When the lady said she swore that the bird was saying, 'Mommy,' and had been saying it since before the storm, I knew we had a chance," Storey said. "Jacky was hand-fed, so I knew that she wouldn't know how to get food and would be hungry."
Neighbors searched trees. Blogs and emails and Facebook messages were shared by the hundreds. One lady called the cops to ask authorities if they had a missing bird report.
"No," came the answer from the Tega Cay cops.
Still, Storey traipsed through woods, her pet parrot "Rio" in a cage in her hand, calling out "Jacky," while listening for "Mommy."
One guy followed Jacky for hours. The bird was spotted over a woman's deck but evaded capture.
"Your bird's in the tree," people said.
"We know that," Storey said, often.
See, people had been gathering in knots as the missing bird story spread through Tega Cay - the tree city - listening for "Mommy."
Jacky still would not come down.
Then, Jandre and David O'Keef of Tega Cay were getting ready to take a walk. Jandre looked up from tying her sneakers, and there was Jacky, a few feet away in a tree.
"I had heard about this bird and figured it had to be the one," Jandre O'Keef said. "Nobody else had lost a parrot that we knew of."
She called Storey, who said Jacky likes cut-up baby carrots. Carrots were brought as a lure, and David O'Keef stuck out his finger and closed his eyes.
"I remember thinking that beak could snap off my finger," he said.
But Jacky just flew down to the ground, and waltzed right up onto O'Keef's arm. O'Keef walked to his wife, who had an empty cat carrier, pushed his arm through the door, and Jacky was safe.
Half-starved and dehydrated - but safe.
"A miracle," said Jandre O'Keef.
Jacky is now back at Boatwright's home - often resting for long stretches on his arm. Parrots can live up to 80 years - Jacky is just two years old.
Storey said the grace of Tega Cay neighbors such as the O'Keefs was "off-the-charts wonderful."
"It just goes to show what nice people there are around here," said Boatwright. "They didn't stop looking. They cared and were so nice.
"But Jacky and me, we have an understanding now - I won't leave the door open, and she won't try and sneak off."
Even if she wanted to, thought, Jacky can't fly off again for another adventure.
Storey, the bird lady, clipped Jacky's flying wings, as is done to most domesticated parrots, so Boatwright doesn't have to say again: "Jacky just flew the coop."