Betrisher
Well-known member
- Jun 3, 2013
- 4,253
- 180
- Parrots
- Dominic: Galah(RIP: 1981-2018); The Lovies: Four Blue Masked Lovebirds; Barney and Madge (The Beaks): Alexandrines; Miss Rosetta Stone: Little Corella
When you first acquire a fid, you expect to receive a certain amount of companionship and involvement through their socialisation and training. What you don't really expect is the ongoing hilarity of being parront to nature's most skilled comedians! I haven't laughed so much in ages!
Each morning, I take the Beaks out of their cage and greet them. They bid me an earnest 'Hullo' and then fly around the house for a good ten minutes, working out the kinks as it were. They usually wind up in the bathroom, perched on the shower curtain-rail and cackling away like a pair of maniacs as they sidle back and forth and pluck at the curtain rings (note to self: get more curtain rings to replace the eaten ones...)
While the Beaks are thus occupied, I'll usually make myself useful by washing up the breakfast things. Hm. As *soon* as they hear the water running, I'll have a bilateral green birdie hat with a Beak hanging off each ear and reaching for the suds in the sink. I have a horror of them ingesting suds or getting into hot water, so I take extreme care of them. As I do the washing up, I'll have the pair of Beaks clambering all over me, squawking advice in my ears and frequently crapping down my back (thanks, guys). Oh well, this is what kids are for. I'll bellow for one or the other and they'll come running with the designated poopscooping spoon to relieve me of whatever's green and slimy and running down my back. Sigh. I'm sure you can all identify? At the moment, the major object of the Beaks' desire is anything shiny. As I'm washing up cutlery and putting it in the drainer, they'll be weeding it out and flying off with miscellaneous spoons and forks, then returning to get more ammo once the first one's been disposed of. Needless to say, the washing up takes *ages*!
Some days, but not all, the Beaks will indicate they want a shower. They do this by parking on top of the tap (faucet) and pecking at the opening where the water comes out. I'll turn on a thin stream of water and they'll jockey for the top spot on my hand so they can drink and play with the water. This lets me know they're in a wet mood. We retreat to the bathroom, where I spray them with the shower head, usually giving myself a thorough bath without ever meaning to. Madge *loves* the water and positively luxuriates in her shower, turning this way and that with her feathers fluffed out to ensure that her armpits get a good sluicing. Barney is less fond of being wet, but even he fluffs himself up and puts on a long-suffering expression as he allows himself to be lightly sprayed. After a quick shake, it's time for a frenzied fly around the house again, sprinkling everyone in the process. Madge will come to my call and allow herself to be blow-dried, but Barney prefers not to do that: he just keeps flying till he's mostly dry.
Next, the Beaks will park on top of the kitchen dresser where I have a huge glass vase and two ceramic biscuit barrels with cork lids. The cork lids are gone now. Well... that is... the cork has been dismantled and lies at the bottoms of the barrels. I get great enjoyment watching the Beaks invert themselves into the barrels to pull out a hunk of cork. One of these days, a Beak is going to fall headfirst into a barrel: I hope I have a camera handy then! Our network cable used to pass across the top of the dresser, but it no longer does. We had a network failure last week (wonder why?) and so rewiring has been done and everyone's happy. It's no small measure of the Beaks' great personalities that my non-birdy husband will do *anything* for them! LOL! Why, just last night he spent an hour up in his shed making slices of end-grain timber for them to chew on!
By now, I will look like a cross between a hedgehog and a bag lady. Having two Beaks parked in your hair has a certain negative effect on your hairdo. The kids get around this by wearing beanies, but I can't bring myself to do that. I love to feel the little warm feets on my head and I guess I can always do my hair again afterward. I do get a bit cranky when the little toads chomp on my ponytail band, though (that would be the Beaks, not the kids). They like the shiny metal joiner thingy and will worry at it until it sproings off and I have No Ponytail. (Another note to self: get more ponytail bands) We spend a bit of time chatting and bonding and then it's time for Work.
I'll spend twenty minutes or half an hour with the Beaks teaching them stuff. Barney is a willing pupil and has a couple of tricks up his sleeve, but Madge loses patience and simply flies up to the top of the fridge and nods off to sleep. When Work is over, though, Madge suddenly comes alive and absolutely, utterly refuses to go back in the cage! This is the point where I have to call for backup as it takes two people to hoodwink the wily Madge. One of us (usually me) has The Treat (usually a sunflower seed or a smear of honey) and the other waits poised to close the door. Madge has an uncanny knack of telling exactly when I'm about to lower my hand and shoot her through the doorway and she's now begun seizing the Treat and galloping back up my arm to eat it (noisily and with much slurping) on my shoulder or my head. If I bend over to insert my whole head into the cage (Hansel and Gretel moment), Madge simply runs along my back to park on my bum. By now, I'm weak with laughter and so we have to start again.
My husband, who grew up in an animal-free household, has not only learned that there are Good Reasons for owning an animal, he has also learned that animals have distinct personalities and even a variety of facial expressions with which to communicate. He loves the Beaks and will hold out his hand for them to land on: when they do, the pleasure on his face is just gorgeous!
I guess the whole point of this rambling essay is to say 'Aren't we all *so* lucky to know our parrots and have them in our lives?'
Each morning, I take the Beaks out of their cage and greet them. They bid me an earnest 'Hullo' and then fly around the house for a good ten minutes, working out the kinks as it were. They usually wind up in the bathroom, perched on the shower curtain-rail and cackling away like a pair of maniacs as they sidle back and forth and pluck at the curtain rings (note to self: get more curtain rings to replace the eaten ones...)
While the Beaks are thus occupied, I'll usually make myself useful by washing up the breakfast things. Hm. As *soon* as they hear the water running, I'll have a bilateral green birdie hat with a Beak hanging off each ear and reaching for the suds in the sink. I have a horror of them ingesting suds or getting into hot water, so I take extreme care of them. As I do the washing up, I'll have the pair of Beaks clambering all over me, squawking advice in my ears and frequently crapping down my back (thanks, guys). Oh well, this is what kids are for. I'll bellow for one or the other and they'll come running with the designated poopscooping spoon to relieve me of whatever's green and slimy and running down my back. Sigh. I'm sure you can all identify? At the moment, the major object of the Beaks' desire is anything shiny. As I'm washing up cutlery and putting it in the drainer, they'll be weeding it out and flying off with miscellaneous spoons and forks, then returning to get more ammo once the first one's been disposed of. Needless to say, the washing up takes *ages*!
Some days, but not all, the Beaks will indicate they want a shower. They do this by parking on top of the tap (faucet) and pecking at the opening where the water comes out. I'll turn on a thin stream of water and they'll jockey for the top spot on my hand so they can drink and play with the water. This lets me know they're in a wet mood. We retreat to the bathroom, where I spray them with the shower head, usually giving myself a thorough bath without ever meaning to. Madge *loves* the water and positively luxuriates in her shower, turning this way and that with her feathers fluffed out to ensure that her armpits get a good sluicing. Barney is less fond of being wet, but even he fluffs himself up and puts on a long-suffering expression as he allows himself to be lightly sprayed. After a quick shake, it's time for a frenzied fly around the house again, sprinkling everyone in the process. Madge will come to my call and allow herself to be blow-dried, but Barney prefers not to do that: he just keeps flying till he's mostly dry.
Next, the Beaks will park on top of the kitchen dresser where I have a huge glass vase and two ceramic biscuit barrels with cork lids. The cork lids are gone now. Well... that is... the cork has been dismantled and lies at the bottoms of the barrels. I get great enjoyment watching the Beaks invert themselves into the barrels to pull out a hunk of cork. One of these days, a Beak is going to fall headfirst into a barrel: I hope I have a camera handy then! Our network cable used to pass across the top of the dresser, but it no longer does. We had a network failure last week (wonder why?) and so rewiring has been done and everyone's happy. It's no small measure of the Beaks' great personalities that my non-birdy husband will do *anything* for them! LOL! Why, just last night he spent an hour up in his shed making slices of end-grain timber for them to chew on!
By now, I will look like a cross between a hedgehog and a bag lady. Having two Beaks parked in your hair has a certain negative effect on your hairdo. The kids get around this by wearing beanies, but I can't bring myself to do that. I love to feel the little warm feets on my head and I guess I can always do my hair again afterward. I do get a bit cranky when the little toads chomp on my ponytail band, though (that would be the Beaks, not the kids). They like the shiny metal joiner thingy and will worry at it until it sproings off and I have No Ponytail. (Another note to self: get more ponytail bands) We spend a bit of time chatting and bonding and then it's time for Work.
I'll spend twenty minutes or half an hour with the Beaks teaching them stuff. Barney is a willing pupil and has a couple of tricks up his sleeve, but Madge loses patience and simply flies up to the top of the fridge and nods off to sleep. When Work is over, though, Madge suddenly comes alive and absolutely, utterly refuses to go back in the cage! This is the point where I have to call for backup as it takes two people to hoodwink the wily Madge. One of us (usually me) has The Treat (usually a sunflower seed or a smear of honey) and the other waits poised to close the door. Madge has an uncanny knack of telling exactly when I'm about to lower my hand and shoot her through the doorway and she's now begun seizing the Treat and galloping back up my arm to eat it (noisily and with much slurping) on my shoulder or my head. If I bend over to insert my whole head into the cage (Hansel and Gretel moment), Madge simply runs along my back to park on my bum. By now, I'm weak with laughter and so we have to start again.
My husband, who grew up in an animal-free household, has not only learned that there are Good Reasons for owning an animal, he has also learned that animals have distinct personalities and even a variety of facial expressions with which to communicate. He loves the Beaks and will hold out his hand for them to land on: when they do, the pleasure on his face is just gorgeous!
I guess the whole point of this rambling essay is to say 'Aren't we all *so* lucky to know our parrots and have them in our lives?'
