Drinking Montana: The Talking Bird At The Talking Bird Can Curse Like A Sailor

ST. REGIS, Montana — If you’re the sort of person who scoffs at the idea of darkening the doors of a saloon before high noon, the joke’s on you because a morning at the Talking Bird Saloon is a squawking good time.

At about 10 a.m. on a recent Friday, a trio of gals headed east to Washington state were bellied up to the bar of this western Montana saloon.

They’d made the pit stop for mimosas and food, presumably, but they had something else entirely on their minds: nipple tassels.

If you didn’t think you’d be reading the words “nipple tassels” right now, imagine the surprise of others at the saloon as the trio admired the silver-sequined tassels one of them had bought online that they planned to wear to the Dave Matthews concert later that day.

After the women piled back into their car, bar manager Debby Norris cracked a big smile and let out an even bigger chuckle. 

“See, you never know what to expect here,” she said.

The Main Attraction

Many first-timers understandably come to the Talking Bird expecting the main attraction to be George, the resident talking bird that lives in a cage at the far end of the bar. 

But it’s easy to forget there’s a bird in the bar, save for an occasional whistle, because the 3-year-old common hill myna really isn’t in the mood to deliver one of his signature lines this particular morning. 

Besides, his funniest quips were stolen anyhow.

So, if the talking bird isn’t the main attraction of the Talking Bird, what exactly is?

Everybody else.

In a town of fewer than 400 people, the saloon is one of only a handful of places people can go. 

It’s the sort of spot where Norris has been known to officiate a wedding or where people might pop in to spread the word that so and so has died.

One thing that’s an important tenet of the Talking Bird is that patrons shouldn’t take themselves so seriously, and Norris and the rest of the staff do their best to ensure they don’t.

No More Strippers

Norris is quick to laugh while recanting some of the bawdier stories from the 40-ish years she’s been tending bar here that might make the more prudish patrons blush. 

The men of Playgirl visited, as did some female oil wrestlers, not to mention the annual tricycle races in which patrons raced around the relatively small bar.

Things have mellowed considerably since slot machines replaced the strippers in the casino that adjoins the bar and Jasper’s Restaurant, all part of the same business. 

While so much has changed during the 63 years since owner Rick Jasper bought the saloon, much has remained the same, largely because of the combined century that Jasper and Norris have been tending bar here.

It’s impossible not to think of “Cheers” when the staff rattle off one-liners that still get a chuckle even if they’ve been repeated since, well, “Cheers” was still on the air.

When someone made a quip about whether Norris was, indeed, working on this morning, she retorted: “I thought I’d work today, but that’s open to interpretation.”

After a regular orders a pre-lunch Smirnoff Ice rather than his regular Bud Light, he got an, “Ooh, fancy!” from Norris.

Flipping The Bird

Morning is a particularly good time to visit the Talking Bird. 

Jasper begins every day at the bar. After counting the money in the tills from the night before, he might sip on a whiskey ditch before heading home by around 11 a.m.

Jasper bought the bar in 1962 before he was old enough to tend bar and rechristened it thanks to the talking bird that came along with the deal. 

He worked on missile sites in South Dakota before returning home. 

The wood paneling on the walls and the ceiling is original and there are many reminders of the lumber mill once owned by Jasper’s father that was a huge part of this community until it shut down in 2021.

St. Regis is as busy as any town its size, Jasper said, and that’s thanks largely to its location. 

For motorists traveling along Interstate 90, St. Regis is where they’ll take Montana Highway 135 if they’re headed north to nearby Quinn’s Hot Springs or further afield to Glacier National Park.

That makes the saloon-meets-liquor-store-meets-casino-meets-restaurant a pit stop for many out-of-towners and a place where the regulars feel right at home.

The annual Fourth of July parade passes directly in front of the saloon, making for a very busy day — particularly for orders of the ever-popular bloody marys. 

This year, the staff had enough pre-cut veggies on-hand to make up to 200 bloodies, and Norris counted making 64 of the drinks in a span of a few hours.

George, The Talking Bird

Of course, the saloon is also home to that common hill myna, the ninth such bird in the Talking Bird’s history. 

It’s also the ninth named George, never mind that a few along the way have been females.

In the wild, these birds might live up to 12 years, and one of the bar’s made it to the ripe age of 13, though these birds have benefited from the indoor smoking ban that was enacted in 2009.

When the bar’s prior George died in 2022, the Talking Bird was without a talking bird for about six months.

Paula Roos, Jasper’s cousin, was tasked with finding a new George — no small feat since the birds can no longer be legally imported to the U.S. 

Turns out, searching for one online also can introduce you to some “sketchy” people, but Roos ultimately found a young bird that was flown from New York to Montana, arriving in the wee hours of Christmas Day very dehydrated.

George Talks Like A Sailor

All of that work to find this George has endeared him to Roos.

“He’s my favorite because I found him,” she said, adding that this particular George has a lot more personality than some of the Georges that came before him.

When he’s in a good mood, George is prone to talk like a sailor. 

Among his most frequent sayings are telling people to “eat shit” or “don’t say shit,” lines he picked up from a contractor. 

He’s also fond of calling out “hubba hubba” or catcalling passersby, along with a very realistic imitation of a telephone ringing.

Even in that small stretch of time when the Talking Bird isn’t open every day — from 2-8 a.m. —  the saloon is still a lively place thanks to George. 

The bird is allowed out of his cage when the bar is closed, and he’s prone to getting up to some mischief that’s rather fitting.

He might sneak a cigarette if the janitor leaves his pack on the counter, grab a loose dollar bill, divebomb whoever is in the bar, or harass the resident cat that’s prowling about outside.

“This one’s our favorite because he’s really naughty,” Norris said of this George. “He’s got a warped sense of humor like the rest of us.”