saurian
Member
I have always had an interest in birds. I believe this may have come from the fact that my place of residence, SE England, is home to and welcomes many species every year. Wherever I used to go on my holidays, I would make note of the different birds that I saw. From the Southwest's Seagulls to Scotland's Albatross. My love for avian creatures really began when my dad told me that we have native, feral Parakeets in our area, who must have adapted to the climate, seeing as they're here all year round. I would, and still do, spend hours looking at them. In fact, as I write this, my ears are being blessed with their beautiful, distinctive melodies.
I've always been quite proud to say that my garden is the home to a beautiful group of birds. I can see them now, with their green feathers and red beaks. I have a name for this larger- and quite fat- one. Jack. He's always seemingly perched on a tree near my window.
My grandmother had a whole collection of budgies in her own garden in tent. I loved them all, but especially my own one. Ben 10! We had hours of fun together. I would go downstairs and see him every morning. I'd whisper secrets to him, and he would chirp back. He would make me feel like I was the happiest boy on Earth. My special little Bennie. When the news was broken to me one day that the cage had broken and they had all apparently flown away, I was heartbroken. To add to that, my family's Golden Retriever died that same day. I miss them both. Ben 10 and Sam Dog. Wherever they may be.
Anyway. As I became more and more interested in our flying friends, my parents knew that little four year old Saurian would soon be thinking about asking for one of his very own. But I wasn't entirely convinced. That was, until, I distinctly remember the closing line of a documentary. "...birds. It is safe to call them... Living Dinosaurs." That was it! I was stunned. Soon after that, we went on a trip to the lovely county of Somerset. I remember it quite well. It was pouring with rain, and we turned right into this very old looking building.
It was a sight to behold. Budgies upon budgies. All of them, looking at me! I wanted them all! Specifically this small fat chap. I still think about him. It was the best experience of that whole holiday and the only part of it I remember. I was truly happy, and I don't know why.
Christmas Eve of that same year. My brother put on a whole season of the Simpsons into the VHS for me, and I was alone with it all evening. Almost eleven years on, I know why. He was trying to sneak a package upstairs. One that could make a lot of noise. Amazingly, it didn't. Not until it was opened. The next morning, I came downstairs to find a cage on the floor. And inside of it was... A Budgie! I was quickly pressured for a name. Think, Connor, think! "Oh, erm... Mister! Mister the Budgie!" His name became sort of a running joke.
The more I think of it, Mister was probably a consolation present for the losses of Ben 10 and Sam Dog.
In June 2009, my childhood hero passed away. Michael Jackson. I was lost. He was my idol. I would dress like him, tape my fingers, watch his videos all day... As I sat in front of the TV screen, in tears, I heard something. Chirping. Suddenly, I turned around. "Oh, hello Mister...". Perhaps I wasn't alone after all. I was never alone when he was around.
I have to stop writing now because I'm getting a bit teared up. I thought he would be alive forever. I'll always regret not getting out of bed to intervene when he was being handled... It still hurts and I feel like nobody understands why.
I've always been quite proud to say that my garden is the home to a beautiful group of birds. I can see them now, with their green feathers and red beaks. I have a name for this larger- and quite fat- one. Jack. He's always seemingly perched on a tree near my window.
My grandmother had a whole collection of budgies in her own garden in tent. I loved them all, but especially my own one. Ben 10! We had hours of fun together. I would go downstairs and see him every morning. I'd whisper secrets to him, and he would chirp back. He would make me feel like I was the happiest boy on Earth. My special little Bennie. When the news was broken to me one day that the cage had broken and they had all apparently flown away, I was heartbroken. To add to that, my family's Golden Retriever died that same day. I miss them both. Ben 10 and Sam Dog. Wherever they may be.
Anyway. As I became more and more interested in our flying friends, my parents knew that little four year old Saurian would soon be thinking about asking for one of his very own. But I wasn't entirely convinced. That was, until, I distinctly remember the closing line of a documentary. "...birds. It is safe to call them... Living Dinosaurs." That was it! I was stunned. Soon after that, we went on a trip to the lovely county of Somerset. I remember it quite well. It was pouring with rain, and we turned right into this very old looking building.
It was a sight to behold. Budgies upon budgies. All of them, looking at me! I wanted them all! Specifically this small fat chap. I still think about him. It was the best experience of that whole holiday and the only part of it I remember. I was truly happy, and I don't know why.
Christmas Eve of that same year. My brother put on a whole season of the Simpsons into the VHS for me, and I was alone with it all evening. Almost eleven years on, I know why. He was trying to sneak a package upstairs. One that could make a lot of noise. Amazingly, it didn't. Not until it was opened. The next morning, I came downstairs to find a cage on the floor. And inside of it was... A Budgie! I was quickly pressured for a name. Think, Connor, think! "Oh, erm... Mister! Mister the Budgie!" His name became sort of a running joke.
The more I think of it, Mister was probably a consolation present for the losses of Ben 10 and Sam Dog.
In June 2009, my childhood hero passed away. Michael Jackson. I was lost. He was my idol. I would dress like him, tape my fingers, watch his videos all day... As I sat in front of the TV screen, in tears, I heard something. Chirping. Suddenly, I turned around. "Oh, hello Mister...". Perhaps I wasn't alone after all. I was never alone when he was around.
I have to stop writing now because I'm getting a bit teared up. I thought he would be alive forever. I'll always regret not getting out of bed to intervene when he was being handled... It still hurts and I feel like nobody understands why.