Just Another Day in Parrotdise

plucking again

2010-06-19T10:38:00.000-04:00

This is one of my old feathers.
Mom used to save them.

She said I was so pretty, and my feathers were so "sweet"--what a strange thing to say; you'd think it'd be the other way around, like sweet me, pretty feathers, but whatever--that she couldn't bear to throw them away. They don't keep well, though; they fade with time and get spotty. She figured that out eventually, so she doesn't save them any more.

I would not make a good hat, for which I and my tribe are eternally grateful.

When I first moved in with Mom and Dad, they made a big effort to help me stop plucking. They bought me a bigger cage. They put in lots of chewable, rippable, shreddable toys. They changed my diet. They put an additive in my water, an herbal thing to help calm me down a little. And it seemed to be working: The first summer, I had grown out all my chest feathers and was even getting some flight feathers! You can see from my profile pic at the top of this blog how good I was looking. Mom and Dad said they thought I'd be flying by the end of summer!

But then I started pulling again. I really don't know why. Sometimes I would sit up at night and pull dozens of little down feathers off my chest, and when Mom would get up in the morning, there would be a whole little cloud of them on the floor below my swing. I haven't done that in a long time. Whenever I get agitated, though, like if I'm hungry and want my food dish topped off, or if I'm on my cage and want to go into the kitchen, or if Dad leaves the room (he's my favorite!), or if I'm on my play perch and I want to go back to my cage, I'll gnaw on my wing feathers.

After a while, Mom kind of gave up. She figured it was a habit like nail-biting (which I also do) that has just got really ingrained, and that I'd either eventually stop, or I wouldn't. She's mounting another full-frontal assault now, though, because recently I've been looking the worst that I ever have. She says she's bound and determined--she uses that phrase a lot, although it seems kind of redundant to me--to help me grow my feathers back out this summer. They'd been feeding me other stuff, but she's transitioning me back to my Harrison's this week. She's re-ordering the sedative stuff, which you can also mist a bird with, and says she's going to mist me every day even if she has to chase me all over my cage to do it. And that could be quite the chase, seeing as it's a double-macaw, and I only want to be misted when I decide I want to be misted.

She also says she's going to try harder to shower me twice a week, although she doesn't have a lot of control over that. I'm choosy about when I'll take a shower, too, just like with the misting, but I enjoy them when I deign to let Mom take me in with her. Her showerhead died last week, so Dad bought us a new one that has a special Mist setting just for me and I'm actually looking forward to trying it out this weekend.

Finally, Mom's been talking to me about the whole thing. She's been trying to explain the advantages of full feathering. She's also been trying to address what she calls my existential anxiety (although I think the correct word really is angst, I haven't said anything to her about it: I know I dis her a lot, but I don't want to show off here). She keeps telling me this is my forever home, that I'm not going to have to move again when I'm 20, or ever.

She could be on to something there: Maybe that was worrying me a little bit. Maybe I did have the idea that you live with one flock for ten years, then move, then live with strange new people for ten years, move again, and so on. It was certainly an issue with Bane, and when Mom had that same talk with her, it seemed to help a lot. So I'm willing to have it as many times as it takes. Maybe it will help me, too.

Riley

Éminence Grise of the Wood household

Memo to the AGP

2010-06-13T18:40:00.000-04:00

To: The AGP
From: Management
Subject: Diet/Nutrition

You, my dear, are supposed to be gaining weight. The dog, on the other hand, is supposed to be losing weight. If you keep throwing your food on the floor, and she keeps eating it, this will not happen.

So, like, do you mind? Stop feeding her!

And eat already!

Confusion Reigns

2010-06-05T10:36:00.000-04:00

Image by Getty Images via @daylife

Mom got my hatchday and my adoption day conflated in her calendar. As a result, my Dad sang "Happy Hatch Day" to me on my adoption day and gave me 13 kisses plus one to grow on, while they both forgot all about my adoption day until it was over with. Which, in a way, is ok since dates on a calendar don't mean much to me. Although I might have liked a gift or two. I heard them discussing that, and the consensus was that I already have so much stuff that they couldn't think of anything else I needed. I already get great treats, and I have extra toys and perches to rotate periodically. And I tend to agree with that assessment, although that stainless steel swing with the bells that Mom's had her eye on for just years might have been nice. Oh, well. Maybe Christmas.
More important to me is this whole issue of showers. I've only had one all week because Mom's back went out on her on Monday and it's hard enough for her to get her own.
And porch-sitting. It's rained every day this week, starting with the Memorial Day weekend, so I have not been out on the porch at all.
Mom says Memorial Day is to honor soldiers who have died. Since I don't know what a soldier is, that wasn't a very helpful explanation. I do know that Mom was home for three days in a row instead of the usual two, and that's something I can get behind because means lots of out-of-cage time for me.
Mom was getting better, and said she'd take me out today, but now her back is bothering her again, and Dad is at work, so I don't know. I just don't know.
At least they've got their dates straight now. I came home to live with them on the 2nd, and turned 10 two days later.

Riley

Éminence Grise of the Wood Household

In Which Bane Gets a Bath

2010-05-11T20:45:00.000-04:00

Image via Wikipedia

Sponsored by bathing Japanese Macacques.

Mom's been saying that Bane was getting stinky, and she's been threatening to bathe her. But today she came home from work to find muddy paw-prints all over the front rooms of the house--not to mention, Bane jumped up on her as soon as she came through the door and left muddy paw-prints all over the front of Mom!

We went out on the deck for some sun before dinner, and when Mom and Bane were making kissy-face, Mom noticed that even Bane's whiskers were coated in mud! She had mud in her eyes, for crying out loud. She gets this way digging for chipmunks, by the way. Bane, I mean, not Mom.

So straightaway after dinner, into the bathroom they went. Mom tried to comb out all the burrs Bane had collected in her fur this spring, and then into the tub they went. And yes, Mom goes in with her! It's quite a production, you can hear it all over the house, as Bane weighs 60 pounds and does not like baths. Funny thing, that--I like showers. But Bane is hard to drag into the tub, and then is constantly struggling to get out, which Mom says makes her front end damn difficult to get clean. But she likes the toweling part afterward, whereas I hate to be toweled! Mom bought me my own little gray towel, trying to make me think it was my momma or some such thing, like I'm gonna fall for that.

But anyways, after the bath Mom and Bane come out front and loll around on the floor doing "towel massage". Bane moans with pleasure, and Mom talks baby talk to her, and even though I'm with Dad, who I like better anyway, I get jealous.

Mom says the whole process is back-breaking, and she just wants to take her Sleepy Tea and go to bed. But as I said, washing the dog is a production. There are two loads of laundry to do now, what with the clothes that got muddy and the bathroom rug and all the towels it takes to get such a hairy dog dry!

In which I get in trouble--twice!

2010-05-09T11:02:00.001-04:00

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Sponsored by Gaussian Curves.

Now that I'm getting used to having my old cage outside, I'm really liking sitting out on the deck with Mom. In fact, I like it so much that I refused to come in on Wednesday evening when it was time for her to go over to her friend's for Scrabble. I finally did, but not until after I'd made her late, Dad had removed my food and water dishes and my perch, and my parronts had got in an argument about it.

Mom wouldn't leave for Scrabble with me outside, because she said it wasn't safe, and Dad wouldn't come sit out with me because he said it was too hot. He also said that if he sat out with me until I agreed to come in, then that was letting me win (true enough). Mom said that for a 180-lb man with a college degree--and a double-major, to boot--and a 25-year career in public service to get into a power struggle with a bird that weighs less than 16 ounces and has about the same number of IQ points (I beg your pardon!) was ridiculous. He wanted to towel me, and Mom said no, that's for emergencies. And so on and so forth, until finally he agreed to watch me and she left.

I'm still mad about that IQ crack. I don't fully understand a lot of what they said, like, what is a double major? but I know when I've been insulted. That bit was not only uncalled for, it's not true. I'm at least as smart as the average human toddler.

Anyways, Mom said she wasn't taking me out any more when she has anywhere she absolutely, positively has to be before dark. Like now: It's a perfectly beautiful Sunday morning but here I am stuck inside because Mom has meditation class this afternoon.

I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. I like it out there: I'm in dappled sunlight, I'm in kind of a corner so my cage isn't exposed on all sides, I've got a perch and a swing, food and water, some of my old plastic toys, and all the neighborhood birds for entertainment.

She took me out again yesterday, after she got home, and we sat while she meditated and Dad worked in the yard. I went in when she asked me to, but not until the second time, and I didn't really want to. It was simply hours until dark, plus Dad was still outside and quite naturally I prefer to be with him. But Mom thought it was too cool for us both, so in we went. She left me on top of my cage, though, and when I sit on the doors I can see through the sliding glass out to the deck and the back yard. And I could see Dad.

So eventually I decided I would climb down and go outside on my own. I don't know why Mom got so exercised about that: I said "Goodbye" on my way down. Except of course I don't know how to say that, so I stopped right by her head where she was reading in her favorite chair and said "Hello". I meant goodbye, so she should have known.

Unfortunately, once I was on the floor, I couldn't see Dad any more, because the dining room table was blocking my view. And because he had stopped working and was having something to drink, I couldn't hear him, either. I didn't dare call, as I was on the ground, so to speak, and wouldn't want to advertise to all the predators that I was available for a snack, now would I? So I got kind of mixed up and started walking around in circles on the kitchen linoleum between the bird room and the back deck, trying to figure out what to do next.

Mom said later that she heard my nails on the floor behind her, but thought it was the dog. She asked if I was ok, except of course she meant the dog, because the dog never paces like that. She even called me once, except of course she was calling the dog, so I didn't go back over to the bird room. She finally turned around and saw me down there and boy did she blow her lid!

She came over and tried to get me to step up for her, but I wouldn't at first because I really didn't believe her when she said she'd take me to see Dad. But finally I did, and she did, and I got to sit outside again on my t-perch for a few minutes. I couldn't really sit with Dad because he just reeked of gasoline and oil from using the lawnmower, though, and what's worse, when she picked me up, Mom discovered that my nails really need trimming.

So now I 'm on restriction and I'm going to have to go to the vets this week. Urgh. Mom says she's not going to let me sit on top of my cage any more when Dad's outside, and they're going to have to buy one of those pet doors that has an electronic key for Bane's collar. Mom doesn't think I can, but Dad's afraid I might get out through the pet door one day. So neither one of my parronts is too happy with me right now. Mom fussed at Larry a bit, too, asking him why he didn't say something. But Larry's a good little chap in his own way, and I know he would never rat me out like that.

From the proverbial dog house,

Riley, Éminence Grise

2010-05-02T10:50:00.000-04:00

Image via Wikipedia

Hello!

The big news this week is that my Dad moved my old cage--a custom job from Panama that he bought from a coworker back when I first moved to this house--outdoors! It's on the back deck now, where My Mom and I like to sit. I can sit out now and see more, because I'm not up under the deck umbrella, which means I can also get more direct sun. I still get shade from the trees in the yard, and now I don't have to worry about hawks!

We've tried it twice already this weekend, and will probably go out again today before the thunderstorms move in. It's better (less boring) than just sitting out on my t-perch because Mom hung my old swing in it, and Dad put a perch in there, and it has my old ceramic food/water dishes, too.

The Mourning Doves are calling now, and in the last couple of days I've started making my dove call sound, too. Unfortunately it's getting hot enough Mom had to close the windows and start the air conditioner this morning, which means I'll only be able to hear the other birds now if I'm outside. Mom and Larry say they'll really missing that, too. And like now, the wind is blowing, and we can't hear it. Unnatural, that.

It's also too bad we have to close the windows and run the air because for the first time in a while the humidity in my room has been over 60%, which is good of course for Larry, too. Now it will drop. Mom runs a humidifier in here all the time but it's not enough to do any good.

Riley

Éminence Grise

In which I get a misting

2010-04-16T20:53:00.000-04:00

My goodness, so much excitement!

2010-04-04T09:53:00.000-04:00

Image by minds-eye via Flickr

In the wee hours Saturday morning, there were Barred Owls chorusing outside our nestbox. Made me nervous, I don't mind telling you. I just kind of hunkered down in my cage, and reminded myself how safe it is in here.

Then of course I refused to go outside with Mom even after it got nice and warm yesterday. I was right, too: When she came in, she told Dad that while she was meditating she heard a hawk right behind her. By the time she turned around, it was gone--just a big, fat, white down feather floating in the air from where it had been. But still. I think she's probably not going to take me out on my perch any more: I'll have to have my travel cage for safety. From all the racket it made, she's pretty sure it was hunting within feet of the deck where we sit. And twice recently she's read about hawks taking prey very close to humans, and even dogs (she thinks I don't know about that, but I can tell when she's bent out of shape). If they're hungry enough, apparently, Bane's or my parronts' presence won't be any deterrent. Mom & Dad have been meaning to move my old cage out to the deck for the season--maybe they'll do that today.

As for last night, well, I made some of my own excitement. I wouldn't come down off the top of my cage to go in the living room and watch tv with my parronts, but then later I changed my mind and really wanted to sit with Dad. So I climbed down off my cage and started walking across the floor. Dad decided to issue another invitation, and freaked when he couldn't find me in or on my cage! Mom says I could get stepped on, and Dad worries about the doggie door, so I guess they won't be leaving me out any more, even when they are in the next room. Dang.

Riley,

Éminence grise

Beach Towel

2010-04-03T09:56:00.000-04:00

Mom's favorite chair is an original Morris chair we inherited from Dad's dad. I like to climb down from my cage via an open door and sit on the back of it. I do that when Mom's eating and I think I can cadge some of it, and I do it when my parronts are in the kitchen, so I can watch--in case I can cadge something.

It's starting to show some wear, and my parronts have been discussing getting a throw or a beach towel or something to cover it. Mom went on the internet this morning and Googled "parrot beach towel" and the very first hit she got was for Calypso Parrot gifts and stuff. And she ordered me this towel:

Cool, hunh? She's a little worried that these huge parrots might scare me, but I told her not to worry. I mean, after all, they're Greys, aren't they? Now if she got a towel with two-foot cats on it, or snakes or something, that might be different.

They had towels with lots of parrot species on them, and probably some of the others would have matched the room better but we wanted Greys.

I can't wait until it gets here.

Riley,

Éminence Grise

Waitress? Waitress!

2010-03-28T20:05:00.000-04:00

Gaah! There's a dog hair in my food dish!

Which is at least four feet from the floor. How the heck did that happen?

----------------------

It's been an interesting week. For one thing, it got warm enough one day that we could go outside for awhile. Mom checked her messages and returned phone calls from work, and I helped by saying "Hello?" every time she put the phone to her ear. I couldn't always tell when she was actually getting someone on the phone, or only listening to the next message, but I didn't want to miss my chance, so I kept saying it just in case.

Mom just spent a lot of kibble money getting her tooth fixed (I don't have teeth, so I don't have that problem), when she and Dad discovered the freezer isn't working. She's complaining now that replacing it is going to cost almost as much kibble money as her tooth. She says, "It's always something." Personally, I think it's because over the years Mom and Dad have been together, they've let this nest-box get too complicated. I mean, my food doesn't require refrigeration: Why should theirs? Just for example.

I have tried to show them that I know how to build a good nest. I could help. I chew, strip, and tear things right in front of them, all the time. But I'm not sure they get it.

Anyway, back to the dog. I groom myself. Mom would say I overgroom, but that's another post for another day. The dog does not. Except for licking a certain spot sometimes, and that's just gross. That's not grooming! But as I was saying, Mom bought her this thing called a Furminator that looks kind of like a little bitty rake and is supposed to remove Bane's undercoat. I really shouldn't call her Bane. We actually get along pretty well. Sometimes I even drop food for her. On the other hand, sometimes I drop. . . well, never mind

As I was saying, Mom bought this Furminator. She got a whole trash-bag of hair off the dog. Then today, the dog got a bath. It took both Mom and Dad to bathe her in Mom's tub, and Mom got hair all over her and had to take a shower, too. I got a shower myself on Thursday, and I have to say, I wasn't nearly that much trouble. Anyway, Mom was going to brush the dog tonight, too, but they got all involved in looking online for a new refrigerator, so I guess that's not gonna happen.

Still, with a little luck, the hair problem will be a bit better for awhile.

Oh. Yeah. Did I mention? The hot water heater's acting up, too.

Riley,

Éminence grise

Where I've been

2010-03-14T21:55:00.000-04:00

Image via Wikipedia

I know I said I was going to post a lot--more than Mom, anyway--but I didn't count on not being able to get access to her laptop for weeks at a stretch.

First Dad got sick, and that meant Mom didn't have as much time to help me with my posts. I learned something new, though: Birds can catch people colds, but the vet says it's not likely as long as I don't kiss my Dad, and as long as he washes his hands a lot and stuff. I'm not much into kissing. I make a great kissy noise, but I really prefer rubbing noses when it's my Mom. With Dad, I like to sit on his chest and just kind of lean into his face while he pets me. I can do that for a lo-o-o-ong time!

But I digress. Mom actually brought work home from the office to do this weekend, and wound up spending two hours on Sunday doing one simple little thing! At least, she said it should have been simple. She did a lot of cussing, and Dad kept telling her, "Not in front of the bird!" (I don't know why not: I rarely repeat anything she says, never mind the dirty words.) In the first place, it kept asking for things she didn't have, like her Medicaid number. That's at the office. So in places she just made things up. Like she has her Medicare number memorized, so she just kept giving that to them, no matter what number they asked for.

I've never been to an office. Larry used to live at Mom's office, but he lives here with us, now. I don't think I'd like living at an office: I'd be alone every night, and all weekend. This way, I have somebody around almost all the time.

Anyway, it's time to renew some of Mom's contracts with insurance companies. I don't fully understand that, but she says it's how she earns our kibble money. She says insurance companies are businesses that people pay into when they are well, and then when they are sick the insurance companies are supposed to help the people get medical care. They get sick, or upset or something, they come to Mom and talk, and the insurance company is supposed to pay her.

I do understand the kibble part: Every day when she leaves for work, she says, "Bye, bye, babies--time to go to work and earn kibble money!" That's good money, you ask me, but she seems to think it's not.

Anyway, Mom says that when people do get sick, the insurance companies turn themselves inside out (Is that like a hedgehog does when it disappears into its own skin?) figuring out ways not to help the very people who pay their salaries. Now why would people keep paying when that happens? I would stop the first time I didn't get my money's worth, I can tell you that. Mom and Dad have insurance, but they say it's actually pretty good. It only told them "no" once, and then it wound up paying out more for something that was more expensive than what Mom and Dad wanted in the first place. But it turned out for the best--Dad got really good care, and I think he's all well now.

But I've wandered off point again. Mom especially complains about insurance--all the time. And this application, which she says is for CAQH, really, really got her wound up. She says it stands for Affordable Quality Healthcare. She says the aitch should stand for "horsecrap." She's still working on the "a" and the "q". Their online form is supposed to "simplify" staying up to date with all her different contracts. But Mom says the form is a pain in the [behind] and we still don't have affordable, never mind quality, care. And in the meantime, the paperwork is about to drive her out of business (already has once, but that's another story for another day).

I don't understand any of it. I need care, Mom and Dad just put me in this little puppy crate with a handle on top and off we go to the vets. I like riding in the car! Mom always makes sure I am up high enough that I can see out. I love going fast! We use Loving Hands in Milton, and I get top-quality care there. Mom says it's expensive but they're worth it. I don't like going though: I growl, and my eyes run red, and sometimes I get bent out of shape and fall off the exam table. But that doesn't mean they're not good, just that I don't like going. I'd really hoped the bloody tears thing would freak Mom out the first time, make her feel guilty and pamper me, but she didn't bat an eye. Told the vet she'd read about it in a book already.

Riding in the car is barely compensation for what I have to go through, getting blood drawn and my nails trimmed and all.

Anyway, for today, I just wanted to let you know I'm still here. It's just that Mom has been hogging the laptop. The one night I got impatient and tried to blog on my own, I accidentally invoked eight help windows in Firefox. All at once. Bad idea, although it seemed a good one at the time. I mean, after all, I needed help, so I really bit down on the F1 key. Eight times. And still nobody came to help me blog!

So I'm waiting for Mom next time. But I'll get you a better post, one about parrots, not insurance, next weekend. I promise!

Riley,

Éminence grise

Sunday Edition

2010-02-28T11:22:00.000-05:00

Sponsored by Bean Cuisine, from L'Avian Plus (because by now it's nearly friggin' lunch time).

I see from Mom's counter thingy that two of you have already checked in today: I didn't have a post up in time for you because Mom has been hogging the laptop for hours. She says she had to work this morning, sorry and all that. Hmph. Apologies, aschmologies, I want my breakfast: Do you know she hasn't even fed us yet? She says she had an emergency at her job. Personally, I can't imagine what kind of "emergency" could take precedence over my breakfast, but there you go.

Anyway, here's what I wanted to tell you about this week. While she's fixing my breakfast, hint, hint.

I've been saying "Good bird!" for awhile, but these people are so slow sometimes. I just could not get them to understand me! Then they get all excited this week when they finally figure out that's what I'm saying, like they're the ones, not me, who have accomplished something.

So now they're competing to see who gets credit for teaching it to me. Dad claims he says "good bird" to me all the time, but that's not exactly true, because Mom constantly has to remind him to praise me when I do something he wants like Step Up. Mom says, "Pretty bird, Riley bird, pretty Riley bird!" because my first mom told her I liked to hear my name. But she doesn't usually say, "good bird" so she did not teach it to me either, at least not directly, anyway.

You want to know where I really heard it? Mom says it to Larry. I taught it to myself! So there.

You know I've told you before that Larry's wild, for all practical purposes. Mom tries to pet him every day, and sometimes he'll let her, but only on the belly so far. That poor dumb bird has never had a head skritch! Can you imagine? He has no idea what he's missing. Head skritches feel so good, especially when I'm molting. Mom's chair is right by my cage, and I used to come down and stand at the bottom near her so she could skritch my head, but lately I've been saving those for Dad. I'll let her pet my back but head-skritches are reserved for Dad.

As for belly skritches, I have mixed feelings about those. I'll let Mom give me one if I happen to be hanging on the front bars of my cage when she comes by, but I kind of freeze and give her the evil eye. I don't pin--like I said, mixed feelings--but I make sure she knows I'm just tolerating this and that she could get bitten at any time. Oops! I see I'm getting off on a bit of a tangent here. I should probably write a whole post on nothing but skritches some time.

Back to Larry. Mom tries to get him to step up on her finger, too, and sometimes he'll do it, although it's usually only with one foot, and only for a second. Whereupon she says, "Good bird!!" like he was just doing something too cool for school. Hmph. I've been stepping up for years. There's nothing to it. But he acts like he's stepping off a precipice, and she praises him to the skies. I repeat, hmph.

Riley,

Éminence grise of the Wood household

Bon Appetit!

2010-02-21T20:08:00.000-05:00

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Hosted by Super Nintendo.

Ooh! This morning Mom made us Cream of Tweet, by Beak Appétit. And we got to go outdoors again! It's the last time for awhile, per Mom, as it's supposed to get cold again this week. We won't get much more Cream of Tweet, either, as the company went out of business, and we're down to our last bag. Larry Bird doesn't care--he won't eat hardly anything besides seed--but I do. I like Cream of Tweet.

But what I really wanted to tell you about today is the Breath of Fire. It's this new thing Mom learned at meditation class today. She huffs and puffs and sucks her belly in real hard and fast and then pooches it out again and claims it removes toxins from the body and will give her more energy. She takes it pretty seriously: She got kind of offended when I told her it was also the name of a video game for kids.

I worry about her, sometimes. I mean, if I breathed like that I'd fall over in a dead faint! Not to mention, it's totally not dignified.

Riley,

Éminence grise

Here Comes the Sun, Little Darlin', Here Comes The Sun It's All Right

2010-02-20T17:41:00.002-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

Hosted by Tiger Woods.

Mom spent quite the while updating her website today, so I told her while she was at it she needed to let me post on my blog.

It's been a good day, and I really wanted to tell you all about it. Besides being Saturday, which I really like, because my parents are usually here and I get to be out of my cage all day, it was sunny and warm (relatively speaking) and Mom took me outside today for the first time in months! I know, that's a bit of a run-on sentence, but I'm excited.

Now I have no idea why this is, but Zemanta (Mom got me the application so I could get cool pictures and stuff to go with my posts) just this minute spit up about 147 pictures of Tiger Woods's house. Mom says she's tired of hearing about Tiger Woods. She would rather have a picture of Paul McCartney or The Beatles. I don't know who they are. I know that song, though, about the sun, because Mom sings it to me all the time. I mean, all. the. time. As in every single morning at sunrise. And again during the day, like if it's cloudy and the sun comes out. I guess it was kinda cute the first 1,000 times or so, but jeez.

Do you guess she's hoping I'll learn to sing it? Fat chance.

But I digress. We did all (me, Mom, and Bane, that is) go out and sit on the deck together. Mom says she used to take Larry out at the old office, but his cage is too big to fit through the sliding glass door here because Bane's doggie door makes it so narrow. So he didn't go out with us. If he was finger-trained, he could go out in my travel cage I guess, but Mom says he's "wilder 'n a ditch cat". I don't know what a ditch cat is. A cat that lives in ditches, maybe?

Anyway, to get back to my story, when we all got outside, Mom went down into the yard and tried to get the dog to chase a ball, but that was strictly a no go. Bane's supposed to be at least part retriever but you couldn't prove it by me. So Mom gave up on her after a few minutes and came back up on the deck and sat with me.

She turned her face up to the sun and shut her eyes, and I thought she was doing that meditating thing again so I started saying "Om!" to help her, but she said this wasn't formal meditation. She was just "practicing mindfulness," whatever that means exactly. Like I said last week, parrots are naturally mindful, so I don't really get what Mom needs to practice. Especially outdoors: If I'm not mindful, a hawk might sneak up on us or something. So I'm nothing if not mindful. Especially outdoors. You know, in case of hawks?

I really like sitting outside. Today the sun was so bright it had that almost blue quality like it did when it snowed a couple of weeks ago. Except if I closed my eyes it looked red inside my eyelids. Isn't that strange? Blue, red, blue, red. Either color, it felt warm on the skin on my chest, where I've plucked. Mom said it made kind of a halo shining through the short feathers on my head. I could see how it was doing something like that in the fur on this squirrel's tail. That was kind of cool. Mom kept telling me I was a Pretty Bird, which is kind of sweet, especially since my chest really doesn't look so hot. Maybe I should be nicer to her, since she says nice things to me like that all the time.

Or not.

We saw and heard some other birds today. A Tufted Titmouse perched really close to us and kept doing that "Peter, Peter, Pete!" thing. I thought maybe that was its mate's name, but Mom says not, that they're all called titmice. Now what sense does that make, for everybody to all have the same name? And why would they keep calling "Peter, Peter, Pete!" if that's not anybody's name at all? I don't understand. Especially since Mom would whistle "Peter, Peter, Pete!" back at it, and it would answer her. Why would it do that if that wasn't its name? I was really interested in that. Mom would whistle, and it would whistle. And I would tilt my head almost all the way around and listen hard. But I couldn't figure it out. So I didn't whistle. I think Mom was kind of hoping I would.

And a Mourning Dove came too. I used to could mimic their calls, but this one wasn't saying anything so I didn't either. We heard this one bird that sounded like one of the dog's squeaky toys: Mom said that was a Brown-headed Nuthatch. And something was scratching around in the dead leaves by the fence, but with the sun in our eyes we couldn't tell what it was. Mom kept naming birds for me if they called or came by: I don't know why she does that. I don't need to know their names. It's not even their real names, anyway--just what humans call us.

Anyways, we heard a woodpecker drumming, a cardinal, a goldfinch, and a Pine Warbler, and we saw robins and a Ruby-crowned Kinglet. We did not see (or hear) a Scarlet Robin, but I've noticed that every time I post here, no matter what I'm writing about, Zemanta kicks up a picture of one. Mom says we don't even have those here. Zemanta is weird. She says its thinking is "loose". That's some kind of psychological term, I guess. I don't know what it means, but it sounds about right.

Mom likes all the songbirds that come into the yard. And I've seen her get really excited about owls and hawks, too, even thought they might eat me. I kind of resent that. But she always tells me it's okay, they're outside and can't get to me through the glass. I know she would never take me out if there were hawks out there, and if one came she'd bring me right in. And in between, she never leaves me alone. Ever. Not even for a minute. But still. I wish she wouldn't get so excited about birds of prey.

Now the songbirds I kind of like: Not having a real flock of my own to hang out with, I find them kind of interesting. And they're littler than me, so I don't get scared of them. But I don't get as excited about them as Mom does.

Mom tried to get me to sit with her when we got outside, but I wouldn't. I prefer my Dad, and he was inside napping. Usually when I won't step up for her, she just lets it go, but today she told me we could just pretend to sit together, and she took my t-perch off the picnic table and put it in her lap! We were like nose to nose then. I can't believe she did that. That was tricky.

I usually won't let her pet me, either. I really do prefer my Dad! But she got the bright idea today of petting me with both of her hands at the same time. With one hand on one side of me, and one on the other, I didn't know which to bite, and I sure couldn't bite them both at the same time. So there I was, sitting on her lap on my t-perch, getting petted, and me not even trying to bite. She even scritched me under my good wing! I can't believe she did that. Tricky.

And dang, I didn't want to admit it, but it was actually kind of nice. She knew it too, because I wasn't pinning. She looked right pleased with herself. In fact, she kept smiling, which was kind of uncomfortable for me, all those teeth so close to my face, and then she'd keep remembering and covering her teeth with her lips until she'd start feeling pleased and smiling again. At least she remembered to close one eye. Most of the time.

There was this little breeze that ruffled her hair and my feathers and the dead leaves in a little scrub oak outside the fence. And I guess I must have been kind of vibrating, because Mom asked me if I was cold, or just excited. I wish she spoke parrotese better, so I could make her understand I was just really, really happy to be outdoors. But she said we had to come in after about half an hour because she was afraid her face would burn, and maybe the bare spots on my chest, too. And she wasn't sure if it was too cool for me.

Wow! This has turned into a long post! I'm tired but happy now, and I think I'll go sit on top of my cage where I can look out the window and preen, and grind my beak and maybe even take a little nap.

Tomorrow's Sunday, Hot Cereal Day. Maybe I'll post something about that tomorrow.

Om

2010-02-14T09:32:00.000-05:00

It snowed here this weekend. In fact, Mom says there's snow on the ground in 49 states! (I'm not entirely sure what that means, but it sounds impressive.) I know I've never seen this much snow before.

This is what it looked like outside our back door yesterday morning.

It was pretty, before the sun got on it, but it's kind of disturbing, the way it changes the light. I've been kind of agitated in the mornings since it fell, and so has Larry Bird been.

But what I wanted to tell you about today isn't really about snow: Mom has taken up meditating again. She did it once before, for a good couple of months, about two years ago then she kind of fell out of the habit. She says she's been doing this on-again, off-again thing with it since she was in college. I don't really understand "college" but I do get that she's old (she'd be really old if she were a Grey!) and she's been doing the meditation thing since she was only a little older than me. But she signed up for a class last week, and now she's at it again.

It's been so long since the last time that she can't find her mala beads so she's just focusing on her breathing. I think it's crossed her mind that I may have done something with her beads. I would if I could, too, because not only do they look tempting to eat, but also they're on a really pretty red string. But I didn't. I mean, how could I? I'd have to get hold of them first, and she's never given me the opportunity.

But I digress. Mom says when she meditates she's trying to clear her mind and stay "present." Like a lot of things about humans, that strikes me as odd. I mean, I'm always in the present moment: Where else could you be? And we birds never think about our breathing unless there's a problem, like when we don't feel good or something. But she has problems sometimes, because she's allergic to Bane, so maybe that's it. Anyway, she sat down and tried to meditate yesterday morning late, and boy did everything in the house seem to conspire against it!

In the first place, as I said, Larry and I were both kind of agitated yesterday morning, what with all that bright light streaming into our room. I tried to help Mom by saying "Ommmmm!" once in a while, but Larry was doing his "Eek! Eek!" thing. Usually he's kind of quiet. If he "talks" at all, it's this really rapid thing Mom calls "chirtling." He goes so fast I can't understand him at all, really. But there's nothing difficult to understand about "Eek!" and it's so piercingly loud you can't get away from it either. He was not, as Mom would say, a happy camper. I kept pinning at him but it didn't do any good. And I could see Mom flinch every time he did it.

Plus, it was windy and it was getting warm outside, and snow kept falling off the trees and landing on the roof. Everytime the roof went "Thunk!" I could see her flinch at that, too. Then the phone rang. She'd remembered to turn off the ringer, but forgot to turn off the message reminder. So now we have "Thunk! Eek! Beep!" going on constantly while she's trying to meditate.

I kept trying to help her out by pinning at Larry and saying "Ommm!" every once in awhile, but as I said, I don't think it helped much, because it wasn't too much longer before she got up and went in the back of our nestbox and took a nap. Naps, now, that I understand.

Riley

Éminence grise

Bane of My Existence

2010-02-11T21:34:00.000-05:00

I was telling my Mom this morning that she should share with you all what That Dumb Dog (Mom and Dad call her that sometimes--everybody in this house has multiple names, and let me tell you it can get confusing) did yesterday, and you know what she said? "I'm too tired. Besides, I wasn't even here for that. Why don't you do it?"

Well all righty then. I think I will. In fact, I could tell you lots of stories if Mom likes this one, and she'll let me. I don't think Mom posts nearly often enough. I mean, we've shared this nestbox for a couple of years now and she's managed to eke out a measly 62 posts in all that time. I bet I could tell 62 stories in a matter of months.

My first one will be about the dog. Bane of my existence, that dog.

Mom doesn't usually come home from work on Wednesdays. She picks up dinner for herself somewhere and goes straight to her friend's for Scrabble. I really don't understand that game. "Peekaboo!" I understand, but Scrabble? I mean, I've watched Mom play it with my big brother, and on Facebook, but I still don't really get it. People are big on words, aren't they? I really prefer beeps and whistles. And they aren't even saying these words, like they keep trying to get me to do, they're just moving little wooden squares with letters and numbers around on them. Beeps and whistles sound better than "2,3,7 times 2 makes 14" and stuff like that they keep saying when they're playing. Plus, beeps and whistles carry further through the forest, you know?

And those little squares (my Mom calls them "tiles," but they're not tile like on the bathroom floor, so I don't know why she calls them that) look like they'd be put to better use as foot toys for me. I bet I could chew me up some of those squares!

But I digress. Usually once Mom comes home, she's in for the night. Yesterday, she only came home for a few minutes because she'd left the house in the morning without her coat, and it was cold, and I think that must have confused the dog. I don't understand coats. I wear the same thing all the time, but people are not only born naked, they stay that way, and then instead of covering themselves in the same colors all the time like we do so a body can reliably tell which subspecies they are, they go and change that stuff they use instead of feathers or fur several times a day! I mean, Mom was wearing blue when she got up, black when she left for work and came home the first time, white when she left and returned the second time, and blue again before she went to bed. Whereas I'm red and black and gray and white in exactly the same pattern 24/7 and have been for over 12 years. I've never seen anything like it. Evolution takes a funny turn, sometimes, doesn't it? Naked apes. Go figure.

Anyway, back to my story. Mom came home to get her coat. And this guy from the nestbox across the street wanted to borrow something so Mom let him come into the garage to get it. And that's when the dog went nuts. She's always like that to some extent when people come over, but this time was nothing short of spectacular. The whole time the guy was here, That Dumb Dog barked her fool head off. I thought I was back in my first house with those kids my other parents kept bringing home. Only this barking business bounces off the walls and ceilings in a way two noisy little boys never could. Oh, my head! We parrots have a very acute sense of hearing you know.

And here's the thing: The neighbor went back to his nestbox, and Mom got in her car and went to her friend's, and the dog just barked louder! My Dad says she thought Mom had got kidnapped by that man. I don't know how he knew that, because the dog talks even less than I do, but that's what he said. I thought he was joking: our neighbor's such a shrimp that Mom could squash him like a bug. Besides which, he seems nice. Like, before the dog, he used to come over and do stuff like fix the electricity for Dad.

I don't know how long That Damn Dog (that's what Dad calls her sometimes, like last night he called her that a lot--I just call her Bane) barked, but Dad says it was at least an hour and a half. I don't know how long that is, but it was a long time. He kept explaining to her that Mom was okay, but she didn't quiet down until he lay down on the floor with her.

So undignified, and dignity is so important. Dad says I'm a silly bird, but he's wrong. I'm not the one lying on the floor! I'm not the one all hysterical over Mom leaving the house for a little game of Scrabble. I mean, I'll do my locator call for a few minutes when Mom or Dad leave, but only for a few minutes.

In fact, I'm nothing if not dignified. I should have a more dignified name. "Riley" isn't very dignified. It's pretty, and I like to hear people say it. I'll even say it myself once in a while. But it's not befitting of my natural dignity. Bane, on the other hand, is named after a goddess, and sometimes Mom and Dad call her that name, too. It gets confusing. Mom says the goddess Bane is named after wandered around Crete (is that near Cameroon? That's where my kind are from--one of the places we're from, anyway) disguised as a heifer 'cause she was hiding from another goddess whose husband cheated on her with the one the dog's named after. (Are you still with me? I know that was complicated.)

Psittacus Erithacus (that's me) mate for life, and I'm very proud of us for that. Because we do, I don't really understand this cheating business. It sounds undignified to me, especially if another hen was to catch me at it. The heifer business, now, that's definitely undignified. I've seen them on the television. They can be sort of cute, but I wouldn't say they are dignified. Still, I think I should be named after a goddess, too. It isn't fair.

Oh, dang, I'm off on another tangent, aren't I?

The funny thing is, when Mom came home, the dumb dog didn't even act as excited as she does when Mom comes home from an ordinary errand. Like she'd already forgotten the whole thing, or something. I don't understand that: When Dad stays gone too long, I make sure he knows how I feel. I won't come out of my cage, won't step up (or if I do, I make sure to bite him first) and generally sulk until I think he's suffered long enough.

But that's the dog. Bane of my existence.

Posted by Riley,

éminence grise of the Wood household
(Doesn't that sound dignified?)

2010-02-04T19:09:00.000-05:00

These are those same parrots, now in a quarantine enclosure at the wildlife center where they will be rehabilitated before they can be returned to the wild. If you click on it, you can embiggen so you can see what 1,000 stolen parrots looks like. Sickening.

2010-02-02T19:57:00.000-05:00

This shot is from a crate of parrots seized in Cameroon before they could be illegally exported for sale.

You want my opinion? Don't effing buy an imported bird. And after seeing some of the photos of released birds at the Trust's website, and video of flocks in the wild, I'm beginning to think it's cruel to breed a parrot to live singly in a cage all its life as a pet.

First Case

2010-01-24T21:20:00.000-05:00

Here's the latest on the first case: Deferred Judgement.

Collectors

2010-01-24T21:09:00.002-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

The Gabriel Foundation has recently taken in parrots from not one, but two, compulsive hoarders--if I am counting right, over 150 parrots in the span of just four months. They are swamped. The stories are awful, especially the second one: You may not want to read them or look at the photos. But if you can, please go to their website and make a donation.

On the Road - At Airport Security, Making Sure a Parrot Isn’t Loaded - NYTimes.com

2010-01-13T19:46:00.000-05:00

On the Road - At Airport Security, Making Sure a Parrot Isn’t Loaded - NYTimes.com

Seriously. Security searched the parrot.

Eye

2009-11-15T17:23:00.000-05:00

I love a good bird fair

2009-11-07T20:07:00.003-05:00

Isn't he cute??

I went to the bird fair today to get the AGP a playstand. I got one from S&S Exotic perches (snsperches@aol.com) for $100. It's awesome.

It's got a hanging nut-log and food & water cups. It's on wheels, so we can set her up in other rooms in the house if we want. There's no toy hooks, but we can add those if it seems like a good idea later.

We were worried that she would be afraid of it, so I got her some pumpkin seeds for bribes. But The Birdfather's been gone all day, so she's sulking and wouldn't come out of her cage this evening. Consequently, we haven't had a chance to see if she'd panic or not.

The little guy in the picture was absolutely the cutest thing I saw all day. He was asleep in his little bassinet when I tried to take his picture, but the focusing assist lamp on my camera woke him up.

2009-09-19T11:18:00.001-04:00

The AGP's little parakeet friend, who has never to my certain knowledge mimicked anything, gave us a crow call Thursday morning, and a Carolina Wren yesterday. Yay, Larry Bird!!

2009-09-07T17:50:00.002-04:00

It's a lovely day out, here and so we took the AGP and the DOG outdoors with our book and newspaper for a couple hours this evening, early. It's the first day this fall it's been cool enough, and a small fan kept the 'skeeters at bay.

While we were sitting out, two hummingbirds, about a half hour apart, came to investigate the AGP's tail, just in case it turned out to be a big, red, flower full of nectar.

Hm.

2009-08-29T17:02:00.002-04:00

Not sure what to make of this, but the AGP has recently taken to climbing down her open cage door to to a point just behind and above my head and saying, "Hello!" in that soft, sweet, sexy voice she learned from her first mama. Then yesterday, out of the blue, she climbed from the door to the back of my chair. She sat there for about 20 minutes, just keeping me company I guess, and enjoying the view from another perspective, then she went back up the door to the top. Later she did it again, only staying a minute or two.

No, we don't spoil 'em or anything. . .

2009-08-23T17:38:00.006-04:00

I was talking to somebody the other day about the cages we have in our bird room, and the fact that the cages are so big that two birds has effectively become our limit!

Larry has one of these all to himself:

Caitec Flight Cage

Shared via AddThis

OW!

2009-08-23T11:46:00.009-04:00

". . . surely parrots evolved from velociraptors."
-Rebecca K. O'Connor

I had to laugh. The AGP, obviously, is a prey species, not a hunter, but boy can she bite!

Finding information on parrot bites is tricky. I found a general conversation about bite strength that degenerated into a 'my pit bull is meaner than your pit bull' sort of argument, in which in passing it was mentioned that macaws have a bite pressure of 350 psi. No source listed. Another site, also unsourced, says 500-700 psi.

A Wikipedia article on companion parrots in general states that the larger parrots "have a jaw strength comparable to a large dog." I've never been bitten by a dog, so I have no opinion on that. The AGP, on the other hand, has bitten me any number of times over the past two years, and I can completely identify with the velociraptor analogy.

For a good, if brief, discussion of parrot bite strength, click here.

My parents went on vacation and left me here with a sitter

2009-08-19T11:01:00.003-04:00

We went out of town last week, and the regular birdsitter was out of town too. The son of an old friend/neighbor/colleague of mine came to the rescue though. Despite a total lack of experience with fids, he did great. The AGP even learned a cute new whistle, for which the new sitter denies any responsibility.

To add insult to injury, the Birdfather took her for her annual checkup and a nail trim when he went to pick up the dog from the vet, and to salt the wounds he brought the dog back home.

I know the AGP thought, after a dogless week, that we were surely over that phase. She was really giving the dog the stinkeye in the car on the trip back!

2009-07-26T20:23:00.000-04:00

Rebecca O'Connor will be on Ask the Bird Experts live in 36 minutes!

2009-06-30T09:42:00.001-04:00

Inevitably, given the way the BirdFather saws logs at night, it was bound to happen--the AGP has learned to "snore".

Bath time

2009-06-14T10:50:00.003-04:00

I was in the kitchen making my second cuppa when I heard the AGP making an awful racket in her cage--the rattling kind, not the squawking kind of noise. So I eased around the corner to see what was up, and lo and behold she was trying to take a bath in her water dish again.

So I freshened up the pond and showed it to her. No go. I went and got her mister to help her get wet, and she loved it. Usually she runs from it. I guess she just wants to pick and choose when she bathes! She spread her wing and lowered her head and shivered with delight.

So I tried it on Larry. He was having none of it.

2009-06-11T18:05:00.001-04:00

The AGP is sitting in her open (cage) doorway, being sociable, and not incidentally trying to grab the dog's tail every time it goes by.

Just Another Day In Parrotdise

2009-06-08T19:31:00.008-04:00

In which Larry Bird switches to Harrison's

We've had Larry since May 21^st, 2004, which makes him about 5½ years old. About two years ago, when we first got Riley, the vet said we should switch her to Harrison's. We thought we should switch Larry, too, so we bought them each a bag.

Riley took to it immediately: She ate the first bowl we gave her and never looked back. Larry, however, was having nothing to do with that.

For some reason, on a whim, I decided to try again last week, and lo and behold the boy is eating his Harrison's!

2009-06-07T19:41:00.001-04:00

I noticed this weekend that Riley was sitting on the perch nearest her new toy, a rope-net-like thing with lots of wood shapes on it for chewing and climbing. I thought, well good, she's playing with that.

Then when I went to clean her cage, I found piles of wood chips on the bottom: What she was doing was not playing with that toy, but methodically chipping every inch of bark off the perch!

Step up

2009-06-06T19:37:00.003-04:00

The AGP was clambering around on her cage this afternoon, when she seemed to be leaning off the gate in the general direction of my chair, like she wanted to come over. She disdains me, so what's up with that?

Nevertheless, I stick my hand out and say, "Step up," and damned if she doesn't! She hung around for a bit and let me stroke her back, and then The Birdfather came home and she lost interest.

But still.

Happy Hatch Day!

2009-06-02T11:24:00.000-04:00

2009-05-24T20:09:00.002-04:00

Big changes in the AGP's household today: We brought Larry Bird home from the office today. Larry's cage is way too big for the bird room, so it's kind of crowded in here right now. Can't tell yet what the AGP's reaction is going to be. She seems more disturbed by the cage than the parakeet, at this point.

surprise, surprise

2009-05-10T12:54:00.003-04:00

In all the time we've had her, I've never seen the AGP attempt to bathe herself. But I hear a lot of noise coming from the general direction of her water dish, so I look around and lo and behold--she's stuffing her head as far down in there as she can get it (which is not very far) and then shaking water all over the place! So I ran and got her "pond" and reactivated it.

She's ignoring it.

Today's Menu

2009-05-03T10:48:00.004-04:00

Breakfast
Canteloupe
Scrambled Egg
Raisin Toast
Pumpkin Seeds

Lunch
Harrison's Extra Coarse

Dinner
Tube Steak With Bun
Baked Beans
Salad Greens
Grapes

Unless you want nightmares...

2009-04-27T07:31:00.004-04:00

Don't read this book.

. . . in which Ms. Bell adopts a parrot, and despite advice to the contrary, lets it fly free around the garden. With the inevitable result.

Spring!

2009-04-24T08:39:00.000-04:00

The AGP and I are looking forward to some serious outdoors time this weekend!

HR 669

2009-04-22T22:03:00.008-04:00

There's been all manner of hysteria over a bill to ban importation of animals/plants without a review to make sure the species does not represent a threat to our environment. The bill specifically says,

Animals Owned Lawfully Prior to Prohibition of Importation- This Act and regulations issued under this Act shall not interfere with the ability of any person to possess an individual animal of any species if such individual animal was legally owned by the person before the risk assessment is begun pursuant to subsection (e)(3), even if such species is later prohibited from being imported under the regulations issued under this Act.

Which doesn't stop a lot of folk from claiming that if the law passes your exotic pet will be euthanized. It's also worth noting that the bill includes a list of animals that can not be declared illegal:

D) does not include any cat (Felis catus), cattle or oxen (Bos taurus), chicken (Gallus gallus domesticus), dog (Canis lupus familiaris), donkey or ass (Equus asinus), domesticated members of the family Anatidae (geese), duck (domesticated Anas spp.), goat (Capra aegagrus hircus), goldfish (Carassius auratus auratus), horse (Equus caballus), llama (Lama glama), mule or hinny (Equus caballus x E. asinus), pig or hog (Sus scrofa domestica), domesticated varieties of rabbit (Oryctolagus cuniculus), or sheep (Ovis aries), or any other species or variety of species that is determined by the Secretary to be common and clearly domesticated. [Emphasis added]

So I think we can all, like, calm down.

2009-04-22T21:48:00.003-04:00

The AGP is getting bolder. The other night she climbed off the couch and waddled over to the coat closet. The door was open, and she stood staring at the contents, appearing to be utterly fascinated.

Tonight, she climbed down from the back of the couch to sit next to me and try to remove the keys from my laptop.

Spring fever?

2009-04-16T07:41:00.004-04:00

Don't know what's up with this bird, but after nearly two years in our home the AGP's suddenly getting adventurous: Last night she climbed down off the back of the couch onto the floor and went looking for the Birdfather in the kitchen.

2009-04-12T14:12:00.002-04:00

It's only taken her about 12 years, but the AGP has finally figured out how to climb down off her table-top perch.

Custody battle

2009-04-07T19:41:00.003-04:00

On Inside Edition tonight, there's a story about these two women slugging it out in court over Tequila, the African Grey, lost and renamed Lucky. He got lost, and after about two weeks on his own found a new home. Three years later, his two moms met at a coffee shop, discovered their common love of parrots, and one thing led to another. Woman #1 figures out that woman #2 has her old parrot. Woman #2 won't give him back, so woman #1 sues. And wins. Parrot went home today.

Adopt-a-Macaw

2009-03-27T06:43:00.003-04:00

I have heard third-hand that Bird Daddy's in Marietta, GA (USA) has four Scarlet Macaws for adoption. Word is that two are a breeding pair and should be adopted together. Their elderly owner died. They come with cages and all their other stuff from their first home.

I will post more later, after the store opens and I can get first-hand info.

Grey Eats a Grape

2009-03-17T19:23:00.001-04:00

Grey Eats a Grape, originally uploaded by wherepineswhisper.

Outside on a pleasant early spring afternoon.

The Owl

2009-02-07T21:05:00.010-05:00

I just finished reading Wesley the Owl, by Stacey O'Brien. I know, it's not about a parrot, but it is by a woman who kept a bird for 18 years, and about the incredibly deep and affectionate relationship they had.

O'Brien's a smart, funny writer and she makes this a rollicking good read right up until the last. It is not to be missed.

Odd

2009-02-01T10:40:00.002-05:00

I was sitting in the bird room, keeping the AGP company and attending to some paperwork chores yesterday, when the bluebirds arrived.

To clarify, they've been hanging around in the neighborhood for a week or two, but this was the first appearance I've noted at my bluebird box.

The odd part was that Mr. Bluebird brought two ladies to examine the box! I've never seen that before. He went in first, and they hung out on the top and front until he'd done checking it out. When he popped out, the Sister Wives got in a fight about, one presumes, who was going to go in next.

They fought to a standoff and both left.

Today, Mr. B. was back, alone.

Wonder what that was all about?

Her hand in his...

2009-01-25T21:09:00.000-05:00

Tail feather

2009-01-17T19:55:00.003-05:00

Waiting for Daylight

2009-01-06T06:48:00.005-05:00

The One-Minute Writer: Today's Writing Prompt: Waiting

I breakfast in the bird room--it's my favorite room in the house. I can put my feet up in here, and wrap myself in my afghan to ward off the pre-dawn chill. The dog has been fed and lies sleeping again by my chair. The AGP is still on her favorite sleeping perch, but occasionally says "hello" softly, quietly. I reply, "Good morning, how are you, did you sleep well?" as I am trying hard to teach her this.

Breakfast is usually a bagel and cream cheese, and always two cups of Peet's Ethiopian. Every light in the house and out is turned off. The Birdfather calls this "sitting in the dark." I call it "enjoying the natural light." I eat, and drink coffee. When I am done eating, I flip open the laptop and boot up. The screen is turned down low. I sip my coffee. I check my office e-mail and bank accounts. I check my personal e-mail and bank accounts. I sip more coffee, and listen to the AGP preening in the dark.

My neighbors are starting to leave for work. One by one, their cars pass, lights briefly breaking up the pre-dawn darkness. A few I recognize by the shapes of the dark spaces between head- and tail-lamps. I visit, in this order, the StatCounter for activity on my blogs (there are two people who have already been there every day by this time: I wonder who they are), Facebook, and my blogger Dashboard to see if any of the folks I follow have anything new up since last night. I finish my coffee. The dog stretches and yawns in the quiet blackness to my left.

This is usually a peaceful time. The house is asleep, the neighborhood barely stirring. I think about my day. Today it's a little stressful, however, as I discover I have a very large, very important bill that won't "go" through the bill-payer thingy because there's not enough money to cover it. So this morning I sit in the dark, waiting for daylight, chewing my lip, worrying at this problem, as if thinking about it will somehow solve it.

There is a dark purple-tinged glow on the horizon, but it will be a long time to daylight today, as the weather has us completely socked in.

The clock chimes seven. I tell the girls, "It is time to get this show on the road."

Part-tay!

2009-01-03T23:52:00.004-05:00

Turns out the AGP is a party animal.

We had a couple dozen folks over to celebrate the Birdfather's retirement. We worried that a noisy crowd would upset her, and we considered putting her in her travel cage in the back of the house for the duration. But since that end of the house tends to run colder, we decided to try leaving her. The way the house is laid out, even though it's what they used to call an "open plan", people didn't circulate through the bird room but frequently went to meet and talk to her one or two at a time.

And she ate it up. By the end of the first hour or so, if no one was in there with her, she'd start trying to whistle up some interaction! And she was a big hit with our guests.

Cross-posted

2008-12-31T08:58:00.012-05:00

On a clicker-training listserv I subscribe to, a fellow wrote:

Two days ago I finally completed the adoption process and brought a blind Great Dane home to meet the family. We have a parrot -- a white Umbrella Cockatoo . The first day the Dane didn't notice the Cockatoo at all. The Cockatoo sat up on his cage top and ate his food or sat with my wife on the couch.

Then all of the sudden this morning the dog realized that those noises coming from the birdcage were from some sort of animal. The dog went berserk. I had to physically restrain her from charging the cage and knocking it over, and it is a big big cage. I took her into the other room (somewhat forcefully, I am afraid) while I thought about the problem. I have been working all day on a slow approach to the cage while on a leash. She whimpers and whines and strains to charge the cage. She completely ignores all food treats. I tried the strategy of using the cage itself as a reward instead. Each time she relaxes the leash, I would let her take a step forward. I can now do a slow approach to the cage somewhat successfully, though I don't know how reliable it would be. The dog is super stressed out by this: maybe even more so than our bird, who watches from the cage.

Fortunately, I have a spare cage, so I can put the bird in the other cage at night while I work with the dog on this. Any advice or recommendations you can make to help solve this problem? Right now if I so much as tap the cage top, my blind dane goes nuts, even if the bird is in the other room. I am able to get her to lie down calmly after a few minutes beside the cage, but if I even tap the side of the cage, she loses it. Am I trying to do too much too fast? I have only had 24 hours of clicker training with her. She was trained by more traditional methods and is already 4 years old. She is a sweet dog, but does not respond reliably to any commands. Using the clicker, I have been able to get a pretty reliable sit and heel with just 24 hours of practice, so long as the environment is calm. But she is a handful of a dog when she gets stressed out.

I am completely new to clicker training so any feedback is welcome.

I replied:

What I read in a bird book or mag, I forget which, was click and reward for ignoring the bird.

I would put the 'too in his sleep cage and hang out near the regular cage with the dog. That way the dog can go berserk without freaking out the parrot. I would leave the dog off-lead (unless you are worried about her hurting herself) so she can freely offer you behaviors to ignore (extinguish) or treat.

You can stabilize the cage with other furniture or bungee cords so it won't turn over and get damaged, or you can just beat the dog to it and go ahead and lay the cage on its side. Or have a big person stand behind it and hold it in place (like a trainer holding a punching bag in a gym).

The instant the dog stops barking (even if it's just to take a breath) or turns away even a fraction from the cage (whatever you establish as your 1st behavior goal) click and treat. Of course as always, define your ultimate goal (lies quietly by cage ignoring bird, for ex.) and work backwards to establish your sub-goal sequence.

As you work up the sequence, you can tap (but obviously that's too advanced right now) or play a recording of the bird's voice from inside the cage.

In the meantime, and forgive me for stating the obvious, I'm not trying to insult your intelligence here, DON'T LET THAT DOG ANYWHERE NEAR THAT BIRD. The bird may have to live in the sleep cage for awhile.

And be patient. Your dog may go nuts for 20 minutes or more before she offers you anything you can click & treat.

Also, it is important for you to be calm no matter how nuts she gets, because your stress and hers amplify each other. Take a moment to chill out before you start each session, just like you do when you are working with your bird! If you have removed the bird from the situation, then really nothing bad can possibly happen, so repeat to yourself that this is all good, all necessary, and she will sooner or later offer you the behavior you want... this helps keep you cool. If you think to yourself how awful it is that she's banging around, this will never work, etc., etc., then your stress level goes up and so will hers. Make sense?

Finally, I would spend some time, if you haven't already, trying to get the dog's perspective. Being blind, for all that dog knows she's been brought into a home with a resident Pterodactyl. Depending on how training goes the first time, and on what your vet says, maybe a sedative wouldn't be a bad idea just to get her started. Right now she may be too wigged out to hear the clicker or accept a treat without a Benadryl or three!

Another option, if she's crate-trained, is to have additional sessions with her in her crate. Bring your 'too gradually closer, clicking and rewarding for gradually calmer behaviors, perhaps with your ultimate goal being "lying quietly in crate with bird in room yakking it up."

Wouldn't hurt to teach the bird to say "Down" and "Stay" either!

__,_._,___

2008-12-23T07:22:00.006-05:00

From an English-language Abu Dabi newspaper:

"Jacky produces ... intricate [Swarovski crystal] creations from a desk in her Al Barsha (Abu Dabi) home, which she shares with her Scottish husband Pete and their many pets.

To call Jacky an animal lover would be an understatement. In her native Malta she kept anything up to 110 animals – including a Shetland pony, 15 cats, three dogs, a parrot, a rabbit, hamsters, guinea pigs, a giant catfish, a giant tortoise and 32 turtles. These days Smooch – her beloved African Grey parrot keeps Jacky company at work, as do her three dogs Kyo, Nemxa and Buddy...

...I’ve always loved animals. I never had children, never wanted any children, I’m just an animal person I have this rapport with them. I can have my parrot Smooch on my shoulder all day, we can sing and talk together and she’s learning all the time. African Greys need love and constant attention. You can talk to them and teach them colours and play with them like a two-year-old child."

Home again

2008-12-21T17:00:00.002-05:00

I returned home this afternoon to find that the AGP had about plucked herself bald while I was gone. I didn't think she cared!

The A.G. Parront on vacation

2008-12-16T19:13:00.004-05:00

My sister the vet had to visit a breeder to check her Schnauzer puppies before they go to their new homes, and I tagged along (a) because I love puppies, and (b) to watch her work. These little guys made me think of Henry the Dog!

Jungle Sprite

2008-11-20T20:22:00.012-05:00

Joanna Burger, a biologist, wrote The Parrot Who Owns Me about her relationship with Tiko, a Red-lored Amazon. Of his arrival, she wrote:

..so far as Tiko was concerned, we had entered his world, not the other way round. ...Our suburban home had become, in a sense, the wild tropical forest of Tiko's ancestors, the pair of us pressed into service as the flock of his generational memory.

When the AGP came to live with us, I thought we were getting a pet bird. Not so. On Tiko's first night, Burger, sleepless, lay awake thinking that their "dark quiet house felt different, inhabited as it was by a strange new spirit, a jungle sprite." We felt the same way on the AGP's first night: She doesn't just live here, she inhabits here. Her presence filled the house that first day, even after she had quieted for the night.

We have always been dog people, owning up to three at once and fostering others for a rescue organization. We had a cat once, too, who lived with us for about 17 or 18 years. The AGP is altogether a different dynamic. For one thing, she is an independent sort. She may not want to come out of her cage, or step up (or down, for that matter) when we think she should. She has strong preferences for one toy over another. She will reject out of hand a perch we thought was awesome when we brought it home for her. Yet she is very bird-like in her connection to us, her flock. She verbalizes constantly if we are out of sight (we of course call back).

For another, although she was supposed to be "my" bird, she chose to bond with The Birdfather. That is probably because I made the mistake of leaving town for a week shortly after we brought her home, but I sometimes think she might have chosen him anyway for her own inscrutable reasons. She is at her absolute happiest sitting on the back corner of the couch a few inches from his right shoulder.

The Economy

2008-11-16T16:02:00.002-05:00

Well, I went down to the bird fair today to restock on snacks and stuff for the AGP. It was noticeably less crowded, in terms of vendors, stock, and customers, than usual. It seemed small and listless. There were some beautiful birds for sale, including lots of "bonded pairs" and "proven breeders" compared to previous fairs. The vendor who makes the AGP's favorite snack food was not there.

I think the economy is hurting bird people.

The Birdfather is in bed today, and didn't get to go. I picked him up a cool t-shirt for his birthday this week. For the AGP, I brought back a bag of pumpkin seeds (her absolute favorite snack), a sack of mixed nuts (for very, very rare treats because of the fat content), a preening toy, a sack of dried bell pepper, and some Harrison's.

She knew I had food when I came in the door--she started saying "Mmm" right away!

Favorite room in the house

2008-11-10T18:30:00.004-05:00

I've discovered a great blog to visit if you like to write: The One Minute Writer. Every day there's a new writing prompt, and a little timer that beeps when you are done.

Today's prompt asks about one's favorite room in the house. Mine, of course, is the Bird Room. The Bird Room is not what you might think. It was originally designed to be the dining room. Keep in mind that this is a postage-stamp sized house and already has a breakfast room. Just the two of us living here, we sure don't need both!

Besides, it has this great picture window that looks out on the front yard. It made the Birdfather feel like he was dining in a fishbowl, since we are so close to the street. So we made it a sitting room. As it happens, the front yard is also where the birdfeeders and the Bluebird house and the bird bath are. So I quickly discovered that this was an ideal place to read, sip coffee, and birdwatch. I've gotten some lifers here, including the Brown Creeper I saw when I returned home from an entire day of hiking around a local park looking for one. I was cold, tired, stiff, disappointed, and discouraged. I had no sooner sat down with a cup of coffee to warm my old bones, when I glanced out--and there it was, on one of our pine trees not 20 feet from the window!

I have an original, antique Morris chair in here, and this cool table with inlaid ivory that folds up for easy packing on your camel, should you own one of those, and a good reading lamp. In no time flat, it became my favorite room. I started referrring to the Morris chair as my birding chair.

Now, of course, it also houses the AGP, so it really is a bird room in the usual sense of the word. As I write this (and it's taken a lot longer than one minute), the AGP is on top of her cage, grinding her beak.

Only In America

2008-11-02T19:46:00.002-05:00

This is Waldo, lead singer of Hatebeak. I kid thee not.

How does the band get him to perform? According to their official website, "He gets very hyper and talkative when we play music he likes and we usually record his outbursts following an extended listening period. We take the best parts and track them with the rest of the music."

You can buy this from Reptilian Records.

Q&A #1

2008-10-25T07:29:00.008-04:00

Owen wrote:

Are agps very easy to train, like, do you know if you can train them to know where to go and where not to go, and things like that?

The AGP was more or less housebroken when we got her. She's not real reliable, but she will generally indicate when she needs to "go Poopie" by walking over to her T perch or leaning towards it... if we're paying attention, we'll give her a lift. (She squats a bit and waggles her tail before she goes, but by the time you see her doing that, it's too late to move her!) Otherwise, we put her on her perch every half hour or so and tell her to "go Poopie" and she does!

I have read of people teaching their birds to, for example, stay on their playstands and not climb down, but my understanding generally is that you can't teach a bird that certain areas of a house are off-limits. My experience with the AGP, who is as independent as a hog on ice, indicate that a Grey's going to go where s/he wants to. The key, therefore, is to make areas the bird can get to bird-safe: You can't count on teaching a parrot to leave certain plants or the electrical cords alone, or to stay out of the kitchen or bathroom.

Alex is probably the best example of a Grey's trainability, but then, he was an exceptional bird.

H.O.P.E.S.

2008-10-24T19:54:00.016-04:00

Grey Parrots are not endangered, but they are "Near Threatened" partly because so many of them are captured for the pet trade, and partly because the trees they need for nesting are being taken for timber.

The AGP is not wild-caught: their importation is illegal in the U.S. The AGP was bred here. Nevertheless, as member of a Near Threatened species, the AGP has an interest in saving other wildlife. Which brings us to her favorite blog, Helping Our Planet's Endangered Species (H.O.P.E.S.). The cool thing about H.O.P.E.S. is that it is run by a remarkable 13-year-old girl named Owen. Her mother fronts for her, as she is a minor, but the blog is Owen's idea and she does the scut work.

She is set up to accept donations, sell art, and auction items donated by the rest of us in order to raise money for the World Wildlife Fund. Her first goal is to raise $4,000 for firebreaks for tigers. The money would go to plant larch to protect Siberian tigers from wildfires. Of course this does Greys no good at all, but maybe the AGP can get Owen interested in them for her next project...

She's a cool kid and it's a cool site.

GO THERE.

NOW.

2008-10-17T12:30:00.001-04:00

The AGP helps pay the bills.

It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring!

2008-10-08T18:30:00.001-04:00

It started raining here last night and hasn't stopped yet. Before this, it hadn't rained in a month.

The humidity in the house is up to 62% and the AGP is loving it.

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream

2008-10-05T10:59:00.003-04:00

The ice cream truck, besides that annoying, repetitious, tinkling racket that passes for music, periodically emits an uncannily parrot-like "Hello!"

Yesterday the AGP and I were out on the deck when it came up the block behind us. She came to rigid attention the first time she heard it 'speak,' and after the third time she started answering it.

Weird, listening to the truck driving around the neighborhood saying "hello" and the parrot answering back.

Black Crows

2008-09-24T15:41:00.000-04:00

The AGP does not like crows. She particularly dislikes the large, noisy ones that arrive in groups. She figures, apparently, that they are not referred to as "a murder of crows" for no reason.

Does your parrot know its address??

2008-09-23T21:20:00.002-04:00

I'm late tweaking to this story. But here it is: A Japanese parrot got lost, then found again after it told the vet its name and address (really).

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/24753683/

Spoiled? Not me!

2008-09-13T09:43:00.003-04:00

The AGP is adopted. She came to live with us just before her 10th birthday.

The cage she came with was nice. It was a King's Cage, and had a playtop with water and food dishes. At her first home, she spent a lot of her time during the day up there. Unfortunately, when we were moving her to our house, the cage came off the truck on the highway and the playtop got smashed to smithereens. Also, it was almost 10 years old and the paint was peeling.

So we bought a used, custom cage from a coworker of the Birdfather's for $150. It was bigger, and prettier. The Birdfather's friend had kept two Amazons in it, so it should have been more than sufficient, space-wise, for the AGP.

So don't ask me why, but barely six months later we bought this huge thing she's in now at a bird show for about half off retail. It's generally described as a 'double macaw', which is kind of silly, if you think about it, for an African Grey whose weight puts her at about the 2nd percentile. She has about 131 cubic feet of usable cage space (I did the math), and it's loaded with perches and toys. It takes up one whole wall of the bird room.

It took two men (the Birdfather recruited the bird's regular sitter from down the street) to put it together, and one woman (that would be me) to read the directions.

She even has a "pond". I bought a big piece of driftwood from the aquarium department at PetSmart and put it on the bottom of her cage, and put the biggest dog's water dish they had next to it. The dish is sort of a muted gold color, not unlike clay. I put river rock in the bottom of the dish and then put about an inch of water in it.

This whole arrangement cost nearly as much as her first cage. She initially expressed a great deal of curiosity in it, but has yet to take a bath in it--or even drink out of it. And the only time she's ever perched on the driftwood was when I once baited it with a huge fresh strawberry. Oh, well.

The AGP enjoys her new "tree"

2008-09-06T17:00:00.002-04:00

Parrot Tree

2008-09-04T12:02:00.002-04:00

We built the AGP a parrot tree over the weekend, and set it up in the window in the bird room. She wouldn't have anything to do with it until she needed to use it to get away from a misting.

Chillaxin' -- with raspberries

2008-08-30T10:52:00.001-04:00

Right now we're just relaxing on the back deck, sharing a pint of fresh raspberries. The AGP says MMM!