I carry trains but never ride, with twin paths running side by side. I cross the land yet never roam, what am I that leads them home?

A grouping of trees, but not by design, a natural place, that can feel quite divine.

Small and sly, from Western Europe I came. I steal and trick, bringing mischief and shame.

Your parrot is not dead. It’s probably pining for one of these.

I’m not so strange. Just an inverted mountain range! Stand in my middle, it’s uphill both ways!