I am running a home for sexually-confused and frustrated tropical birds.
I did not set out to do this. I set out to buy a parakeet. Technically, my landlord does not allow pets of any kind. Technically, my landlord is also supposed to keep the building up to code. (I live in a former whorehouse that is basically constructed out of solid asbestos and coated in 17 coats of lead paint. Any falling-down building in the French Quarter is part of my landlord's empire--he owns all 50 of the worst-repaired buildings in the Vieux Carre.) Also, technically, tenants are supposed to pay their rent on time. Judging by the number of eviction notices on my neighbors' doors, I'm the only one in my building who has consistently done this for over two years now. So the landlord doesn't give me any crap about my feathered sub-tenants.
I started out breaking the no-pets rule with tropical fish, but let's face it--as pets, they have no personality. So about two years ago, I emptied out the change jars in the kitchen, deposited about $75 worth of coins into my checking account, and took the proceeds down to Petco, where I got set up with a cage, food, bird toys, and a little blue male parakeet named Lord Byron.
He was named Lord Byron because he was mad, bad, and dangerous to know. Also, I lined his cage with my notes for a grad school paper I'd written on the relationship between Cain and his sister-wife Ada in Cain. But like all pet birds everywhere, he just ended up being addressed as Polly. I think the real Lord Byron would have approved.
He never became tame, despite my best efforts. After a few weeks, I realized he wasn't talking or singing or doing much of anything beyond displaying mortal fear whenever I got within a foot of the cage or sitting on the swing looking depressed.
I decided to get him a wife. Enter Jane.
This picture represents the one and only time Jane was willing to come anywhere near me without biting. This is the first day I bought her. Polly took to her immediately, squawking his little head off at her for about an hour--probably telling her all the evil mean things I'd done to him. After that, Jane ceased to be tame, and she and Polly were inseparable.
But, despite Jane's best efforts, Polly never actually mated with her. He'd do everything bird husbands are supposed to do BUT the deed. I decided he was probably gay. Sorry, Jane.
And then I decided to get a cockatiel.
I got Jerry and his big-ass cage for $100 from a lady that couldn't take care of him and her grandchildren at the same time. He is named for Jerry Lee Lewis, because let's face it, he LOOKS like Jerry Lee Lewis, especially when he puts his crest up to indicate his annoyance at the various assaults to his birdy dignity that yours truly subjects him to on a daily basis.
The parakeets quickly figured out that they could squeeze through the bars of Jerry's cage and drop down onto the perch beside him like little ninjas. Jerry did not appreciate this, but eventually grew used to it, and I housed all three birds together in the big cage. Polly and Jane remained inseparable, and Jerry decided I was his mate.
And then Polly died, and I got Elvis to serve as a mate to Jerry and Enoch to serve as a mate for Jane.
(Elvis in foreground, Enoch in back)
Jane never took to Enoch but instead keeps trying to get Jerry to acknowledge her existence beyond displays of irritation, Elvis has got Jerry to groom her and feed her and sing to her but not actually mate with her, and Jerry masturbates on this one bird toy upwards of eight times a day. Meanwhile, Enoch sits on the bird swing and plots against us all, Jane lays eggs in my bookshelves but then ignores them, Elvis shows off for David Duchovny when she's not busy trying to communicate with the phone, the smoke alarm, the microwave, or the doorbell, and Jerry remains convinced that my boyfriend is turning him into a cuckhold and constantly challenges the boyfriend to go mano a mano (or mano a birdo).
Oh, and all four know how to say "I'm a pretty girl!" (even though two of them are actually boys) and "Go fuck yourself," a phrase they reserve for extreme annoyance.
In my demented way, I'm sort of proud.
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Comments
Brian--I'm going to claim that they picked the cussing up on the school bus.
Monte
I don't know if I made the birds screwed up, or if I just have a knack for picking the screwed-up ones.
(Right now Jane is sleeping in my bookcase, Enoch is sleeping on the TV antenna, Elvis is telling me that she's a pretty girl and that Mulder, it's her, and Jerry is masturbating. Again.)
My sister had a budgie that could say, "You're a pretty boy!" She lives across the country, and in anticipation of a visit from my dad, she tried to teach it to say, "Hi (dad's name)!" But no luck. Until the day my dad showed up and it said right off, "Hi (name) - you're a pretty boy!"
If Jerry didn't come to me already knowing how to say "I'm a pretty girl!" and "I love you," none of the birds would know how to talk nice. The other birds learned those two phrases from him.
Despite "Onanism" being a word for masturbation, Onan actually practiced the withdrawal method. (That's what you learn when you're 11 years old and read the Bible for the dirty parts.)
In addition to the Sin of Onan, the Song of Songs, and the 23rd chapter of Ezekiel, I can also tell you all about the safety recall of the Dalkon Shield I.U.D. Wanna go up in the hayloft? I brought my wooden leg...(actually, it's my old hip-to-ankle leg brace from when I was 12, but I suppose it will do...)
~ Peece! David
Rated fo' sho'.
Jerry is going to be very happy that his kingly self has made the cover of OS.
Then I heard Jerry clucking at her for a good five minutes before they all went back to sleep.
Now Jane's figured out that the best way to get Jerry's attention is to make him worry about her safety...Ah, codependence.
the home where there are numerous parrots "Silver" always
says '"work work work" I sneeze and Silver sneezes. The owner
says she likes the sneezing sound and will initiate it to get the
human to do so.
As for the cockatiels, both Jerry and Elvis are what's called standard grays--they look like wild cockatiels. Jerry has a bright yellow head with no gray whatsoever and plain gray wing and tail feathers--which is standard coloration for an adult male cockatiel. Elvis has more yellow on her head than most female standard grays, but it's still about 50/50 yellow and gray. She has also molted her tail and wing feathers twice since I've owned her (all baby cockatiels look like females until their first molt) and has retained her striped yellow feathers on the underside of her tail as well as has some light barring/spotting on the undersides of her wings' flight feathers--both of which indicate that she's female.
I've read that a good deal of sex-based behavior among flock birds isn't as instinctual as it is learned, and none of my birds have had good role models, having all been hand-raised by humans. Pet parrots don't generally make good breeder birds because of this.
So Elvis chatters up a storm (even though in the wild, female cockatiels don't talk much) and none of them ever figured out how to mate correctly or take care of eggs, although they're all really into building nests in strange places (my bookshelves, inside my rainboots, etc.)
When Polly died, for three days Jane moped around and sang all the little ditties and trills that previously only Polly'd sang.
Jane and Elvis both talk/sing in their sleep sometimes as well. Once, when Polly was still alive and before I got Jerry, I heard Jane clucking and hissing the way she only did when she was really pissed at Polly for some birdy slight or another. The only thing was, it was after midnight and both birds were sound asleep on the bird swing, all fluffed up, eyes closed, balanced on one foot, head turned around and tucked under a wing. So, yeah, just like humans, birds apparently dream about arguing with their mates.
I never actually realized how intelligent and social even the smallest parrots were until I had a flock of them.
I love this, Leeandra! They do have little personalities, don't they? Reading this makes me miss my quirky cockatiels (Max and Molly). I just love cockatiels; they always look like they're smiling.
Regarding their speech, I would be totally surprised if a bird of yours did NOT use colorful language. :)
Well done. Congrats on the EP and cover!
Yeah, they do have their own little minds and personalities.
And happy birthday!
Juli--I was shocked the first time I heard Jerry curse. I'd put him in his little cage (which he hates), covered it (which he hates more) because it was cold outside, and went to take him to the vet (whom he hates with the heat of a thousand suns). He was making his displeasure very well known by saying cluckcluckhisssnufflecluckhisshisshissSQUAARRRRKKKhisshiss and then all of a sudden he blurted out (from underneath the Veggie Tales blanket that covers his travel cage) "Fuck you!" Then he went immediately back to the hissing and snorting. My boyfriend heard it to and asked if he'd just said what I thought he'd said.
With the Veggie Tales blanket over the little cage, a lot of people think I've got a baby in a carrier until Jerry unleashes a torrent of squawking and profanity at the indignity of it all.
Phaedo--One of my mom's more churchgoing aunts had a macaw that she tried to teach to say "God Bless You!" Instead, the bird's favorite phrase was, "Hello, dumbshit." (learned courtesy of Mom's ne'er do well cousin.)
Plus, they have claws, razor-sharp beaks, and can fly.
They're very worth it, but they are NOT maintenance-free animals by any means.