Andrew Jackson and His Infamous Parrot, Poll
Andrew Jackson, the fiery seventh president of the United States, was known for many things—his battlefield bravado, his populist politics, and his fierce independence. But perhaps one of the most curious fixtures of his post-presidency life was not a politician or a general, but a sharp-tongued African Grey parrot named Poll. Originally purchased in 1827 for his beloved wife Rachel—likely for around $25 at a Nashville pet shop—Poll became Jackson’s companion after Rachel’s death in 1828. And not just any companion. This bird didn’t merely mimic sounds—it echoed Jackson’s own famously salty vocabulary with uncanny accuracy, earning a reputation that eventually rivaled its owner’s for sheer audacity.
Poll’s notoriety reached its peak during Jackson’s funeral in 1845, when, according to the account of Rev. William Menefee Norment, the parrot began squawking a stream of profanities so relentless and colorful that it had to be physically removed from the service. The incident reportedly scandalized Jackson’s enslaved workers, who were portrayed in Norment’s telling as more morally restrained than their master—a narrative steeped in the racial stereotypes of the antebellum South. Whether Rev. Norment’s account is entirely factual remains debated among historians, but the story has endured, not least because it so perfectly captures the contradictions of Jackson himself: tough, unfiltered, and larger than life—even in death. And Poll? The parrot lives on in sanitized form at The Hermitage’s children’s audio tours—minus the cursing, of course.
How the Parrot Learned to Swear Like a General
Andrew Jackson’s parrot, Poll, didn’t just pick up a few naughty words—it developed a full-blown sailor’s lexicon, and historians have a pretty good idea why. African Grey parrots, like Poll, are famously intelligent mimics, capable of parroting not just words, but tone, cadence, and even context. And when your owner is a brash former general with a volcanic temper and a known fondness for colorful language, well… let’s just say the bird had plenty of material to work with.
Poll was originally purchased by Jackson in 1827 as a gift for his beloved wife, Rachel. But after Rachel’s sudden death in 1828, the grieving Jackson kept the parrot as a personal companion—one who would become increasingly vocal during his retirement at The Hermitage. As Jackson’s health declined and his social circle dwindled, Poll remained a near-constant presence, absorbing the president’s speech patterns and, apparently, his profanity-laced tirades. According to Reverend William Menefee Norment, who witnessed the bird’s infamous outburst at Jackson’s funeral, Poll had to be physically removed from the service for spewing a torrent of obscenities that shocked even Jackson’s enslaved workers, who were described as “more pious than their master”.
While some suggest that Poll may have picked up profanity in taverns prior to its time at The Hermitage, the most plausible explanation remains Jackson himself. As a military man who once fought duels and led brutal campaigns during the War of 1812 and the First Seminole War, Jackson wasn’t exactly known for genteel language. His fiery rhetoric in Congress and on the battlefield made him a larger-than-life figure—and Poll, in many ways, became a feathered echo of that persona. The bird didn’t just mimic words; it captured Jackson’s raw, unfiltered essence. Whether apocryphal or not, the story of Poll’s profane vocabulary has become a vivid symbol of Jackson’s legacy: uncouth, unapologetic, and unforgettable.
The Role of Pets in Jackson’s Isolated Personality
Andrew Jackson may have been a fiery populist and a war hero, but behind the tough exterior of “Old Hickory” was a man who found solace not in his cabinet, but in the company of animals—particularly a sharp-tongued African Grey parrot named Poll. Purchased in 1827 for his wife Rachel for $25 from a Nashville pet shop, Poll became more than a mere pet after Rachel’s sudden death the following year. As grief consumed Jackson, so too did his reliance on the bird that once belonged to her. In a household that had grown quieter and colder, Poll’s chatter—often laced with the same salty language Jackson used on the battlefield—offered a strange kind of comfort.
Jackson’s affinity for pets, especially Poll, reflected a deeper emotional undercurrent. The president, known for his violent temper and deep distrust of political elites, often withdrew from close human relationships. As his presidency wore on and his health declined at The Hermitage, his circle shrank dramatically. Yet Poll remained, perched within earshot, mimicking his master and sharing in his solitude. According to Rev. William Menefee Norment’s account, Jackson’s bond with the bird was so profound that it shocked mourners during his funeral when Poll unleashed a torrent of profanity and had to be removed from the service.
This unusual companionship wasn’t just sentimental—it was symptomatic. Jackson’s preference for animals over people mirrored his contentious political life, where he often clashed with advisors and saw betrayal in every corner. Pets, unlike politicians, didn’t scheme or grandstand. They offered loyalty without the burden of compromise. In Poll, Jackson found a mirror—one that squawked his own words back at him, unfiltered and unjudging. In many ways, the parrot was the only “cabinet member” Jackson never fired.
Cabinet Clashes—Why Jackson Preferred Feathered Company
Andrew Jackson’s White House was no stranger to chaos—but some of the most explosive clashes didn’t come from foreign adversaries or political rivals. They came from within his own cabinet. Jackson’s leadership style was, in a word, combustible. He ruled more like a military general than a consensus-builder, sidelining dissent and demanding loyalty. When his cabinet didn’t fall in line, he didn’t hesitate to cut them loose—or, more often, simply stop listening. It’s no wonder he found more comfort in the company of Poll, his foul-mouthed African Grey parrot, than in the presence of his own advisors.
The most infamous internal conflict erupted during what became known as the “Petticoat Affair” in 1830–1831, a social scandal triggered by the ostracization of Margaret Eaton, the wife of Secretary of War John Eaton. Jackson, fiercely defending her honor—perhaps projecting his grief over similar attacks on his late wife Rachel—demanded that his cabinet and their wives accept Margaret. When they refused, the fallout was swift and severe: Jackson effectively dissolved his entire cabinet, reshuffling positions and relying instead on a group of informal confidants dubbed the Kitchen Cabinet.
These constant power struggles wore on Jackson, who increasingly withdrew from formal governance structures. Instead of enduring the political theater of cabinet meetings, he found Poll to be a refreshingly honest companion—albeit one with a sailor’s vocabulary. Poll’s famously profane outbursts, which allegedly mimicked Jackson’s own rough military speech, weren’t just comic relief; they symbolized the president’s disdain for political niceties and bureaucratic posturing. As historian Mark R. Cheathem notes, Jackson’s relationship with Poll—especially during his retirement years at The Hermitage—reflected a broader isolationism that defined his later life.
Ultimately, Jackson’s preference for his parrot over his cabinet wasn’t just eccentricity—it was a reflection of his governing ethos. He trusted loyalty over protocol, instinct over deliberation. If a feathered companion could echo his sentiments without challenging his authority, all the better.
The Parrot’s Unexpected Appearance at Jackson’s Funeral
Andrew Jackson’s funeral in June 1845 was meant to be a solemn affair—a final tribute to the fiery general-turned-president known as “Old Hickory.” But what unfolded inside The Hermitage that day veered into the absurd. As mourners gathered to pay their respects, Jackson’s beloved African Grey parrot, Poll, reportedly let loose a volley of profanity so colorful that even Jackson himself, notorious for his battlefield swearing, might’ve blushed. According to the only known eyewitness account, Reverend William Menefee Norment, the bird was hastily removed from the service after disrupting the eulogy with a stream of “indecent” language that shocked the attendees—including Jackson’s enslaved workers, who were described as being scandalized by the parrot’s tirade.
The parrot’s outburst, while comical to modern ears, wasn’t entirely out of character. Jackson, who spent his final years at The Hermitage in Tennessee, was known to have taught Poll many of his favorite phrases—most of them unprintable. The tale has become a staple of presidential folklore, though historians remain cautious about its veracity. The story didn’t appear in print until 1920, some 75 years after Jackson’s death, and hinges entirely on Norment’s recollection as a teenager. Still, the anecdote has endured because it so perfectly encapsulates Jackson’s larger-than-life persona: brash, unpredictable, and utterly unconcerned with decorum.
Even today, Poll has not been forgotten. At The Hermitage, the official tour includes a sanitized, child-friendly version of the parrot’s story—minus the swearing, of course. But the legend lives on, feathered and foul-mouthed, as one of the strangest footnotes in American presidential history.
Historical Accounts of Jackson’s Deep Bond with Poll
Andrew Jackson’s relationship with his African Grey parrot, Poll, wasn’t just a footnote in presidential trivia—it was an unusually tender thread in the complex fabric of a man known more for duels and vetoes than for domestic warmth. Originally purchased for his wife, Rachel, Poll became Jackson’s constant companion after her death in 1828—a loss that devastated him and left a void the bird quietly filled. According to letters and oral recollections, Jackson continued to care for Poll personally during his presidency and retirement, often asking about the parrot’s health while away from The Hermitage, his Tennessee plantation. That level of concern wasn’t just sentimental; it was rare for a man whose public persona was forged in the fires of war and political upheaval.
Historical accounts, particularly those by Reverend William Menefee Norment—one of Jackson’s final visitors—underscore how deeply Poll figured into Jackson’s private world. Norment, who witnessed Jackson’s declining health firsthand, also recorded the infamous moment at Jackson’s 1845 funeral when Poll reportedly unleashed a string of obscenities so shocking that mourners were forced to remove the bird. While some historians question the authenticity of this tale, its persistence speaks volumes about the symbolic role Poll played: a living echo of Jackson’s own brashness, loyalty, and contradictions. Modern interpretations, like the sanitized children’s audio tour at The Hermitage, strip away the profanities—but not the intimacy. Poll wasn’t just a talking bird. For Jackson, Poll was a link to lost love, a confidant in solitude, and perhaps the only “cabinet member” who never challenged his authority.
How This Story Reflects the President’s Larger-Than-Life Legacy
Andrew Jackson’s legacy has never been tidy. Equal parts war hero, populist president, and polarizing figure, Jackson carved a reputation that was as thunderous as his temper—and, apparently, as colorful as his pet parrot. The infamous tale of Poll, the African Grey who had to be removed from Jackson’s 1845 funeral for swearing at the mourners, isn’t just a quirky presidential anecdote. It’s a mirror reflecting the contradictions that defined Jackson’s life and leadership. According to Rev. William Menefee Norment, who attended the funeral, Poll’s outburst was so profane it shocked even Jackson’s enslaved workers, who were stereotypically portrayed as more pious than their master—a detail that exposes the racialized moral narratives of the antebellum South.
The story endures not simply because a bird cursed at a funeral, but because it fits the mythos of Jackson himself. Nicknamed “Old Hickory” for his toughness, Jackson was a man who defied convention, often with a scowl and a saber. He dismantled the Second Bank of the United States, stared down South Carolina in the Nullification Crisis, and bulldozed Native American rights with the Indian Removal Act—all while maintaining a deep, if eccentric, affection for his parrot.
Poll’s foul-mouthed cameo at the funeral encapsulates the paradox of a man who expanded democracy for white men but inflicted brutal policies on Native Americans and enslaved individuals. It’s also a reminder that even the most imposing historical figures had private lives filled with oddities, affections, and contradictions. Whether or not Poll truly echoed Jackson’s famously salty language, the tale has become part of the Jacksonian legend—a legend where fact and folklore blur, and where even a parrot can speak volumes about power, personality, and the peculiarities of presidential history.
