Later, I learned that our forgetting of the parakeet had begun even before the species was extinct.

That I had never heard of such a bird did not surprise me.... But others more experienced also did not know of the Carolina Parakeet. The more I spoke of the bird, the more it seemed that, somehow, its existence had been a chimera. Admittedly, my survey was small and unscientific, but intelligent people who could reel off the names of various dinosaurs and identify sparrows at epic distances could not name the forgotten parakeet. I realized, forcefully, what I suppose I knew abstractly: Histories, like species, can go extinct.

This is the planet teeming, this place we’ve come to and will leave tomorrow, deepened for the long return but not the wedded reach, the losing touch of self to self, contented more or less and known not nearly well enough.

Later, I learned that our forgetting of the parakeet had begun even before the species was extinct.

Curiosity began my journey, which led to regret, which brings me always to wonder and dedication.

I read, for the first time, of the Carolina Parakeet-a North American parakeet whose green, yellow and reddish-orange plumage appeared vivacious and altogether quite wonderful. As stunning as I found the hawk-chased conures, this bird astounded me even more. That the Carolina Parakeet was extinct simply added to my amazement.

Time is the deepest wilderness in which we wander.