In New Zealand, a Parrot Has Learned to Mimic the Sound of a Dial-Up Modem—And Uses It to Haunt Office Workers

The kea is a large, olive-green parrot native to New Zealand's South Island, known for intelligence that rivals chimpanzees and a mischievous streak that has earned it the nickname "the clown of the mountains." Keas have been observed using tools, solving multi-step puzzles, and working in teams to steal food from tourists. But none have ever done what a kea named Nigel at the Willowbank Wildlife Reserve in Christchurch has learned to do: mimic the exact sound of a 56k dial-up modem connecting to the internet, then deploy that sound as a weapon of mass annoyance.

Nigel picked up the sound from a vintage computer display in the reserve's educational center, where an old Compaq Presario runs a screensaver of the Windows 95 startup sequence. The modem screech plays every 15 minutes as part of the audio loop. Nigel heard it once, imitated it perfectly within two days, and then started experimenting with context.

"At first, we thought it was a glitch in the audio system," said reserve curator Dr. Helen Whitaker. "We kept restarting the computer. Then we realized the sound was coming from the kea enclosure, which is 50 meters away. We watched Nigel sit on a branch, open his beak, and produce a modem screech so accurate that our IT guy, who is old enough to remember dial-up, flinched."

The real trouble began when Nigel discovered the sound's effect on humans. Office workers in the reserve's administration building would hear the modem screech, instinctively reach for a non-existent phone line, and then look around in confusion. Nigel, observing this from a nearby window, seemed to find the humans' distress hilarious. He started screeching whenever he wanted attention, or food, or simply wanted the room to himself.

"If we are eating lunch in the break room, Nigel will perch outside the window and modem-screech until someone goes outside to shoo him away," said admin assistant Tama Potaka. "Then he flies to the other window and does it again. He is not scared of us. He is herding us. He has learned that the modem sound moves humans. It is like a sheepdog using a whistle, except the whistle is a 1990s internet handshake and the sheep are very confused office workers."

The behavior has escalated. Nigel now modem-screeches at visitors who try to take photos of him, at keepers who are late with his dinner, and at a particular male kea named Bruce with whom Nigel has a long-standing rivalry. Bruce is unimpressed. The humans are not.

"We tried ignoring it," Whitaker said. "That worked for about three days. Then Nigel started modem-screeching at 5 AM outside the caretaker's cottage. The caretaker has a heart condition. We had to intervene."

The intervention took the form of enrichment: puzzle toys, novel foods, and a sound board with buttons that play different noises when pressed. Nigel mastered the sound board in 20 minutes and now uses it to play modem screeches, doorbell chimes, and a clip of a human saying "hello? hello?" in a worried tone. He has started combining sounds: a doorbell chime followed by a modem screech followed by "hello? hello?" The sequence is so realistic that receptionists have answered the phone to find no one there.

"He is trolling us," Whitaker said. "There is no other word for it. He has learned that humans respond to certain sounds with predictable behaviors, and he manipulates those behaviors for his own amusement. That is the definition of trolling. Nigel is a troll."

Kea researchers from the University of Canterbury have taken an interest in Nigel, setting up video cameras to analyze his vocalizations. Preliminary findings suggest that Nigel's modem imitation is unusually precise: he reproduces the frequency sweep, the timing, and even the slight static crackle at the end of the handshake. No other kea in the facility has learned the sound, though several have tried and failed.

"Nigel has a gift," said Dr. Aaron Chen, the lead researcher. "He is not just mimicking. He is mimicking with intent. He knows what the sound means to humans, even if he does not understand the technology. To him, the modem screech is a magic noise that makes people jump. That is power. He likes power."

The reserve has decided against trying to extinguish the behavior, as negative reinforcement (shouting, spraying water) would only stress Nigel and damage the trust between animals and keepers. Instead, they are embracing Nigel's unique talent. A plaque outside his enclosure now reads: "Nigel—Master of the Modem. Listen for his signature sound. Do not answer the phone."

When asked what sound he will learn next, Nigel—who was perched on a branch watching the interview—let out a perfect imitation of an iPhone ringtone, followed by the modem screech, followed by a human-like sigh. Then he flew away.

"He is working on a medley," Whitaker said. "God help us all."