PLease feel free to read and respond to any post. We hope you find this new feature both fun and educational!
Robin Stears
Monday, January 4, 2010
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Travels With Karen
by Karen Graves
I’ve had some small success with my cockatiel, Puck. I took Bijoux out today for his little outing with me, on my shoulder, when Puck starting acting frantic, running madly back and forth in search of his buddy. Bijoux heard his cries of distress and called back to him, making him even more frantic. I decided to try to lure Puck out of the cage, using Bijoux as willing enticement, and it worked, after I used a bag tie to secure the cage door open.
At first Puck hesitated, but concern over Bijoux overcame his fear and he hopped, then tried to fly out of his cage. Bijoux saw him do this and fluttered down off my shoulder, to the floor, where they both ran to meet each other. I picked them up gently, one at a time, and ensconced them on my right shoulder.
To my surprise, Bijoux was a little jealous of Puck’ s close proximity to me, and tried to chase him away, but Puck was equally determined to stay put, and proceeded to groom my hair. After a few minutes, the two of them were quietly sitting on my shoulder where they occasionally ruffled their feathers. They were content to stay like this for over an hour, as I sat at my kitchen table, reading. When I put them back, Puck did not try to bite like he usually does. I’ m hoping if I can continue working with him, he'll eventually come to trust me.
The year 1999 was a peak travel year for me...(culminating with) my second week’ s vacation in October to Bangkok and Hong Kong.
...Wending our way through the crowded streets [of Hong Kong], Paula and I finally came to Tung Choi Street. The goldfish market was to be found on the upper portion of the street, while the Ladies Market was on the lower half. What was remarkable was that for five blocks on either side of Tung Choi Street, all the stores were aquarium stores. Each of them specialized in tank set-ups, while others also specialized in outdoor pools or ponds. They also sold fish of all kinds, from fancy goldfish to beautiful pond koi, to tropical fish, and even salt-water fish. Paula and I were amazed by all the different fish we saw that day, some of which neither of us had seen before.
Fish are very popular among Chinese families because of the belief that a fish tank properly placed in a house can ward off bad luck. We saw numerous fish fanciers making purchases and having stores design tank set-ups for them. The market is open from 10 am to 6 pm.
Once we finished looking at the stores that interested us, Paula and I walked up Tung Choi Street , crossed Nullah Road, to the very bust Prince Edward Road West. We were a little overwhelmed by our surroundings and were unsure as to how to find the Flower Market and Bird Garden. Paula spied a police station on the corner of Prince Edward and Nathan Roads, and suggested we go in and ask for directions, since we were sure that they could speak English.
We walked into the police station and explained that we were tourists, and politely asked how to find the places we were looking for. The policeman at the front desk couldn't’ t have been nicer and explained in perfect English how to find the Flower Market and the Bird garden. As it turned out, we were close to these sights.
...Flower Market Road ran into Yuen Po Street and it was here that we found the Bird Garden. As we entered, we could hear the songs of numerous birds. I was struck by the sense of age and tranquility that this place had surrounding it. There were about 70 stalls that showcased a variety of songbirds of different sizes and colors. Many of the smaller ones were in bamboo cages, while their hook-billed cousins could be found in metal cages.
Besides the birds, many of the vendors also sold supplies and cages. This garden with its moongates, topiary shrubbery, and birds, was charming place to visit. Songbirds remain a favorite of some of the local men, and Paula and I saw many little groups of them out sitting with their little bird cages, spending time with their pets, and drinking warm tea they had brought in thermoses. Several of them proudly showed their avian friends to us as we walked by.
Some of the more memorable birds I saw there included cages of colorful lories, a trio of blue and gold macaws, a green-wing macaw, and a Moluccan cockatoo. All of these birds were trained to do different tricks and they could all say words in English and Chinese. The macaws were natural clowns, and the cockatoo was quite an acrobat. Paula and I got a kick out of these avian pranksters. They seemed pretty popular with the people visiting the garden, and in no time there was a crowd watching them do their tricks.
All the birds were clean and well cared for, and the garden was testimony to the pampering they receive from owners and vendors alike. The Yuen Po Bird Garden is free, and open to the public from 7 am to 8 pm. It was worth the little extra to go and see this extraordinary little spot in this big, bustling city.
Thanks again,
Karen [Graves], Kashmir, William, Bijoux, Puck
I’ve had some small success with my cockatiel, Puck. I took Bijoux out today for his little outing with me, on my shoulder, when Puck starting acting frantic, running madly back and forth in search of his buddy. Bijoux heard his cries of distress and called back to him, making him even more frantic. I decided to try to lure Puck out of the cage, using Bijoux as willing enticement, and it worked, after I used a bag tie to secure the cage door open.
At first Puck hesitated, but concern over Bijoux overcame his fear and he hopped, then tried to fly out of his cage. Bijoux saw him do this and fluttered down off my shoulder, to the floor, where they both ran to meet each other. I picked them up gently, one at a time, and ensconced them on my right shoulder.
To my surprise, Bijoux was a little jealous of Puck’ s close proximity to me, and tried to chase him away, but Puck was equally determined to stay put, and proceeded to groom my hair. After a few minutes, the two of them were quietly sitting on my shoulder where they occasionally ruffled their feathers. They were content to stay like this for over an hour, as I sat at my kitchen table, reading. When I put them back, Puck did not try to bite like he usually does. I’ m hoping if I can continue working with him, he'll eventually come to trust me.
The year 1999 was a peak travel year for me...(culminating with) my second week’ s vacation in October to Bangkok and Hong Kong.
...Wending our way through the crowded streets [of Hong Kong], Paula and I finally came to Tung Choi Street. The goldfish market was to be found on the upper portion of the street, while the Ladies Market was on the lower half. What was remarkable was that for five blocks on either side of Tung Choi Street, all the stores were aquarium stores. Each of them specialized in tank set-ups, while others also specialized in outdoor pools or ponds. They also sold fish of all kinds, from fancy goldfish to beautiful pond koi, to tropical fish, and even salt-water fish. Paula and I were amazed by all the different fish we saw that day, some of which neither of us had seen before.
Fish are very popular among Chinese families because of the belief that a fish tank properly placed in a house can ward off bad luck. We saw numerous fish fanciers making purchases and having stores design tank set-ups for them. The market is open from 10 am to 6 pm.
Once we finished looking at the stores that interested us, Paula and I walked up Tung Choi Street , crossed Nullah Road, to the very bust Prince Edward Road West. We were a little overwhelmed by our surroundings and were unsure as to how to find the Flower Market and Bird Garden. Paula spied a police station on the corner of Prince Edward and Nathan Roads, and suggested we go in and ask for directions, since we were sure that they could speak English.
We walked into the police station and explained that we were tourists, and politely asked how to find the places we were looking for. The policeman at the front desk couldn't’ t have been nicer and explained in perfect English how to find the Flower Market and the Bird garden. As it turned out, we were close to these sights.
...Flower Market Road ran into Yuen Po Street and it was here that we found the Bird Garden. As we entered, we could hear the songs of numerous birds. I was struck by the sense of age and tranquility that this place had surrounding it. There were about 70 stalls that showcased a variety of songbirds of different sizes and colors. Many of the smaller ones were in bamboo cages, while their hook-billed cousins could be found in metal cages.
Besides the birds, many of the vendors also sold supplies and cages. This garden with its moongates, topiary shrubbery, and birds, was charming place to visit. Songbirds remain a favorite of some of the local men, and Paula and I saw many little groups of them out sitting with their little bird cages, spending time with their pets, and drinking warm tea they had brought in thermoses. Several of them proudly showed their avian friends to us as we walked by.
Some of the more memorable birds I saw there included cages of colorful lories, a trio of blue and gold macaws, a green-wing macaw, and a Moluccan cockatoo. All of these birds were trained to do different tricks and they could all say words in English and Chinese. The macaws were natural clowns, and the cockatoo was quite an acrobat. Paula and I got a kick out of these avian pranksters. They seemed pretty popular with the people visiting the garden, and in no time there was a crowd watching them do their tricks.
All the birds were clean and well cared for, and the garden was testimony to the pampering they receive from owners and vendors alike. The Yuen Po Bird Garden is free, and open to the public from 7 am to 8 pm. It was worth the little extra to go and see this extraordinary little spot in this big, bustling city.
Thanks again,
Karen [Graves], Kashmir, William, Bijoux, Puck
PLIGHT OF THE PARROT
The Rainforest where we once lived was lush and thick and green The trees they reached into the sky like none that most have seen. .
And in the tree's a hollow spot is where we both would go, For in the hollow, we would lay our eggs as white as snow. .
The forest it had plenty of food for us to eat And water holes where animals would play and swim and meet. .
One day as I was in my log I heard an awful sound, I flew out to the lookout branch to see what lurked around. .
A human with his nets and gloves, machete and a sack, Had come to steal our chicks from us, Oh how I want them back. .
And when he took our little chicks I heard a piercing cry, He dropped my chick from up above, I had to watch him die. .
And when he left, we went to see our hollow and our nest Our family was gone you see, our place where we would rest.
And in the tree's a hollow spot is where we both would go, For in the hollow, we would lay our eggs as white as snow. .
The forest it had plenty of food for us to eat And water holes where animals would play and swim and meet. .
One day as I was in my log I heard an awful sound, I flew out to the lookout branch to see what lurked around. .
A human with his nets and gloves, machete and a sack, Had come to steal our chicks from us, Oh how I want them back. .
And when he took our little chicks I heard a piercing cry, He dropped my chick from up above, I had to watch him die. .
And when he left, we went to see our hollow and our nest Our family was gone you see, our place where we would rest.
Our First Bird...Petie
By Joanne and John Muller
A friend of ours always had birds and my husband and I really enjoyed them. We had lots of pets... dogs, cats ,turtles, rabbits and reptiles but never a bird. We couldn't really afford one. We had just bought a home on 2 1/2 acre's of land in the country. On one early Saturday morning, our friend John called and wanted to know if we still wanted a bird. He said there was a old woman he knew who had 2 birds in an outside cage. For the past 5 years she had been trying to breed them, but every year the male would kill the female and she would have to replace the female. But now, she just didn't want the male any longer and was willing to sell him for $200. He said that was a great deal. He said the bird was a big bird but that was all we knew. Anyway we were excited and ran off to a pet store to buy a cage and what ever else we needed. The store we chose happened to be all the way in New Jersey and the manager of the store was my older brother. I thought if anyone knew what we needed it would be him. We had so much stuff when we left that store that it filled my whole van. Everything from bird books, a large cage with a perch on top, toys, food, etc. All of this for a bird that we had no idea what it was. Looking back it was really funny. We rushed home to set up everything in time for the arrival of my newest baby and our first bird. The truck pulled in and out jumped our friend John with a box. We all ran to him and finally got to look at the most amazing bird we had ever seen....it was white with a bright orange crest. We took out our book and found out it was a CITRON COCKATOO and he was hissing like crazy at us, but we all just sat there and stared. HE WAS AMAZING! I fell in love that day back in 1988 and now sixteen years later we still are amazed by our bird Petie. I remember the first time he got on me. I felt blessed because it took a long time for him to trust me. Because of Petie we looked into bird clubs in our area and found the best one with the greatest people. It was The "Catskill Bird Club". We made a lot of friends there...some that are gone now and some that we will never forget. Gereldine, Matt, Richie, AnnMarie, Mary just to name a few and of course Dr. Stein who when he came out of his office with Petie always said, "He's fine...it's my blood". Petie always did love the taste him! Well, thanks for all of the memories and for letting me go on about my best Friend PETE, our first bird, and the one that still runs our home. Hi to all....
A friend of ours always had birds and my husband and I really enjoyed them. We had lots of pets... dogs, cats ,turtles, rabbits and reptiles but never a bird. We couldn't really afford one. We had just bought a home on 2 1/2 acre's of land in the country. On one early Saturday morning, our friend John called and wanted to know if we still wanted a bird. He said there was a old woman he knew who had 2 birds in an outside cage. For the past 5 years she had been trying to breed them, but every year the male would kill the female and she would have to replace the female. But now, she just didn't want the male any longer and was willing to sell him for $200. He said that was a great deal. He said the bird was a big bird but that was all we knew. Anyway we were excited and ran off to a pet store to buy a cage and what ever else we needed. The store we chose happened to be all the way in New Jersey and the manager of the store was my older brother. I thought if anyone knew what we needed it would be him. We had so much stuff when we left that store that it filled my whole van. Everything from bird books, a large cage with a perch on top, toys, food, etc. All of this for a bird that we had no idea what it was. Looking back it was really funny. We rushed home to set up everything in time for the arrival of my newest baby and our first bird. The truck pulled in and out jumped our friend John with a box. We all ran to him and finally got to look at the most amazing bird we had ever seen....it was white with a bright orange crest. We took out our book and found out it was a CITRON COCKATOO and he was hissing like crazy at us, but we all just sat there and stared. HE WAS AMAZING! I fell in love that day back in 1988 and now sixteen years later we still are amazed by our bird Petie. I remember the first time he got on me. I felt blessed because it took a long time for him to trust me. Because of Petie we looked into bird clubs in our area and found the best one with the greatest people. It was The "Catskill Bird Club". We made a lot of friends there...some that are gone now and some that we will never forget. Gereldine, Matt, Richie, AnnMarie, Mary just to name a few and of course Dr. Stein who when he came out of his office with Petie always said, "He's fine...it's my blood". Petie always did love the taste him! Well, thanks for all of the memories and for letting me go on about my best Friend PETE, our first bird, and the one that still runs our home. Hi to all....
On Feeding Baby Birds
By Richard Chiger
Several years ago I had the dubious pleasure, or possible misfortune, of watching several "hand raised" baby birds being put through their hand feedings by the owners and directors of a commercial aviary that I considered to be tantamount to a puppy mill. The fledgling birds were systematically taken out from under a shelf or cabinet, confined to a towel covered fish tank, where the aviary owner plopped a syringe of food into each open yearning mouth and then replaced them back onto this structure from which they were taken.
There was no nurturing, handling, fondling or loving. It might as well have been a machine filling each crop with food and then moving on. It is mind-boggling to conjecture how much attention and support would have to be lavished on these baby birds to compensate for this emotional neglect in an effort to turn them into loving pets with some degree of "birdie" self-esteem.
The kind of situation that I described here is not uncommon. Birds are removed from their parents for the convenience of the hand raiser, rather than the best interests of the baby birds. Not all hand raising is this cold and I am sure many people who hand raise baby birds do it with love and understanding. However, whether it is done with warmth or with the kind of cold disregard that I saw, one thing is not taken into consideration and that is the feelings of the mother or both parent birds.
I find that in our valiant attempt to do things right when raising baby birds and other animals in zoo situations, the emotional needs of the parent animals are the last things considered, when it is considered at all. With this in mind I present my feelings on how to do this job in a way that is kind, productive, totally taking the ;"Mom" into consideration and turning out some fantastic pet birds.
Not being a veteran bird breeder, I was kind of shocked when Penelope, my female cockatiel, laid eggs in a box on the dresser in my computer room. I was even more dumbfounded when those eggs hatched. She was such an attentive mother, always feeding and nuzzling the tiny baby birds. I was determined to let her completely raise her own babies as I feel strongly that this is her right. I also wanted the baby birds to be great pets........so this is how I did it and it worked.
Once the baby's eyes were open I talked to them every day, and would take them out one at a time (trying to disturb her as little as possible) and kiss and pet them and cuddle with them. They honestly were not too thrilled, but I wanted them to have an acquaintance with the human hand as a positive thing. When they fledged and started to fly around the room....I took each one separately into a small room where I worked on them getting them to sit on my hand and shoulder. I did that for a couple of days and, voila, I have the friendliest, tamest and most loving cockatiels I have ever known. I will compare them to hand-raised birds that are raised under the finest and most nurturing conditions................
The difference here is that the mother bird (the father, Zeke, had no interest) was not frustrated and hurt emotionally by having her chicks removed. I cannot believe that a bird that wants to raise her babies does not suffer when they are taken away from her. I think that most people who feel that the parent birds do not care just say that to assuage their own guilt. I feel that negating the fact that parent birds have feelings is a terrible cruelty and really not a necessary thing if you make a concerted effort to tame a baby bird as soon as it fledges.
Check out Antonio, or any of his brothers or sisters to see if I am telling the truth. You will be pleasantly surprised.........Baby birds with the highest self esteem and happy mothers too,,,,,,,,,,,,a good thing.
Several years ago I had the dubious pleasure, or possible misfortune, of watching several "hand raised" baby birds being put through their hand feedings by the owners and directors of a commercial aviary that I considered to be tantamount to a puppy mill. The fledgling birds were systematically taken out from under a shelf or cabinet, confined to a towel covered fish tank, where the aviary owner plopped a syringe of food into each open yearning mouth and then replaced them back onto this structure from which they were taken.
There was no nurturing, handling, fondling or loving. It might as well have been a machine filling each crop with food and then moving on. It is mind-boggling to conjecture how much attention and support would have to be lavished on these baby birds to compensate for this emotional neglect in an effort to turn them into loving pets with some degree of "birdie" self-esteem.
The kind of situation that I described here is not uncommon. Birds are removed from their parents for the convenience of the hand raiser, rather than the best interests of the baby birds. Not all hand raising is this cold and I am sure many people who hand raise baby birds do it with love and understanding. However, whether it is done with warmth or with the kind of cold disregard that I saw, one thing is not taken into consideration and that is the feelings of the mother or both parent birds.
I find that in our valiant attempt to do things right when raising baby birds and other animals in zoo situations, the emotional needs of the parent animals are the last things considered, when it is considered at all. With this in mind I present my feelings on how to do this job in a way that is kind, productive, totally taking the ;"Mom" into consideration and turning out some fantastic pet birds.
Not being a veteran bird breeder, I was kind of shocked when Penelope, my female cockatiel, laid eggs in a box on the dresser in my computer room. I was even more dumbfounded when those eggs hatched. She was such an attentive mother, always feeding and nuzzling the tiny baby birds. I was determined to let her completely raise her own babies as I feel strongly that this is her right. I also wanted the baby birds to be great pets........so this is how I did it and it worked.
Once the baby's eyes were open I talked to them every day, and would take them out one at a time (trying to disturb her as little as possible) and kiss and pet them and cuddle with them. They honestly were not too thrilled, but I wanted them to have an acquaintance with the human hand as a positive thing. When they fledged and started to fly around the room....I took each one separately into a small room where I worked on them getting them to sit on my hand and shoulder. I did that for a couple of days and, voila, I have the friendliest, tamest and most loving cockatiels I have ever known. I will compare them to hand-raised birds that are raised under the finest and most nurturing conditions................
The difference here is that the mother bird (the father, Zeke, had no interest) was not frustrated and hurt emotionally by having her chicks removed. I cannot believe that a bird that wants to raise her babies does not suffer when they are taken away from her. I think that most people who feel that the parent birds do not care just say that to assuage their own guilt. I feel that negating the fact that parent birds have feelings is a terrible cruelty and really not a necessary thing if you make a concerted effort to tame a baby bird as soon as it fledges.
Check out Antonio, or any of his brothers or sisters to see if I am telling the truth. You will be pleasantly surprised.........Baby birds with the highest self esteem and happy mothers too,,,,,,,,,,,,a good thing.
Noise Pollution - According to Silver
By Denise M. Dirig
Last year I decided there wasn't enough going on under my roof with four birds, two dogs, three cats, my three sons...(Does anyone remember that show?) their ages being fifteen, sixteen, and a know-it-all twenty-one year old. (No ... my life is not anywhere near as idealistic as that old TV. show.) I also reside with a very patient but I'm sure at times confused husband. His confusion going something like.. "How did I end up like this...and who are these crazy people I live with?"
Two of my young men play electric guitar and one plays piano. I can easily take the piano, but for those of you not fortunate enough to live with teens and an electric guitar, let me fill you in..
The whole point of playing this instrument is to cram as many single notes (ca//ed finger tapping) into a minute or two as is humanly possible, then practice this jumble of notes over and over as fast as your fingers can fly. (You'd be amazed!) for hours at a time, or until your mother screams, Turn that blasted thing off!" of the top of her lungs while having a nervous-brake-down.
Only then does the budding guitarist feel he has successfully mastered the instrument enough to put it down for a few hours. They're a most dedicated group. Now - if I could just get them to play the same song when they're jamming together! Anyhow, I digress, I was telling you I felt this overwhelming need to add to my households confusion last year - by taking up the violin!
I shouldn't feel the need to defend myself, as my violin teacher was really quite impressed with my quick expertise in mastering the fundamentals of this difficult instrument. On the other hand, my family was not always so encouraging with comments such as..
"Mom, don't you think you've practiced long enough?" Or, "Mom can't you go into the other room to do that?" Or my personal payback favorite, "Mom, you've practiced that one song over and over. It's not going to get any better today so p/ease play something else." Even my oh-so-patient husband became a trader in those first few weeks of lessons as he ever so kindly would squint his eyes as if in pain and say gently, "Honey, I don't think that's quite the right note."
But the real critic became Silver, my African Grey. You've heard of a person pulling their hair out in frustration? You guessed it. A few feathers bit the dust. A ring around the neck to be exact and a few chest feathers as well. I was heartbroken. She had never plucked before. (To think of all the times I put up with her serenades!)
The powers-that-be somehow managed to take pity on Silver and my family. For unavoidable reasons, soon after my lessons began my teacher had to curtail all lessons for what turned out to be the whole summer.
Silver's feathers re-grew beautifully. Though, occasionally a feather is still angrily yanked when she gets agitated, but to date, no more bare spots or even noticeable plucking. Silver even learned to tolerate my violin playing when lessons resumed last fall, unbending so far as to learn a few notes and to sing along. She has even become comfortable with the bow going up and down. (A big problem in the beginning.) This just goes to show that our birds can adapt to just about anything if we go slow enough and let them get used to new things. Maybe by next year, (now that Silver no longer considers my violin playing as noise pollution) my family will have put together a band with Silver as the lead singer. I'll keep you informed of our debut.
Enjoy!
Last year I decided there wasn't enough going on under my roof with four birds, two dogs, three cats, my three sons...(Does anyone remember that show?) their ages being fifteen, sixteen, and a know-it-all twenty-one year old. (No ... my life is not anywhere near as idealistic as that old TV. show.) I also reside with a very patient but I'm sure at times confused husband. His confusion going something like.. "How did I end up like this...and who are these crazy people I live with?"
Two of my young men play electric guitar and one plays piano. I can easily take the piano, but for those of you not fortunate enough to live with teens and an electric guitar, let me fill you in..
The whole point of playing this instrument is to cram as many single notes (ca//ed finger tapping) into a minute or two as is humanly possible, then practice this jumble of notes over and over as fast as your fingers can fly. (You'd be amazed!) for hours at a time, or until your mother screams, Turn that blasted thing off!" of the top of her lungs while having a nervous-brake-down.
Only then does the budding guitarist feel he has successfully mastered the instrument enough to put it down for a few hours. They're a most dedicated group. Now - if I could just get them to play the same song when they're jamming together! Anyhow, I digress, I was telling you I felt this overwhelming need to add to my households confusion last year - by taking up the violin!
I shouldn't feel the need to defend myself, as my violin teacher was really quite impressed with my quick expertise in mastering the fundamentals of this difficult instrument. On the other hand, my family was not always so encouraging with comments such as..
"Mom, don't you think you've practiced long enough?" Or, "Mom can't you go into the other room to do that?" Or my personal payback favorite, "Mom, you've practiced that one song over and over. It's not going to get any better today so p/ease play something else." Even my oh-so-patient husband became a trader in those first few weeks of lessons as he ever so kindly would squint his eyes as if in pain and say gently, "Honey, I don't think that's quite the right note."
But the real critic became Silver, my African Grey. You've heard of a person pulling their hair out in frustration? You guessed it. A few feathers bit the dust. A ring around the neck to be exact and a few chest feathers as well. I was heartbroken. She had never plucked before. (To think of all the times I put up with her serenades!)
The powers-that-be somehow managed to take pity on Silver and my family. For unavoidable reasons, soon after my lessons began my teacher had to curtail all lessons for what turned out to be the whole summer.
Silver's feathers re-grew beautifully. Though, occasionally a feather is still angrily yanked when she gets agitated, but to date, no more bare spots or even noticeable plucking. Silver even learned to tolerate my violin playing when lessons resumed last fall, unbending so far as to learn a few notes and to sing along. She has even become comfortable with the bow going up and down. (A big problem in the beginning.) This just goes to show that our birds can adapt to just about anything if we go slow enough and let them get used to new things. Maybe by next year, (now that Silver no longer considers my violin playing as noise pollution) my family will have put together a band with Silver as the lead singer. I'll keep you informed of our debut.
Enjoy!
MAX -- The Story of a Cockatoo
By Linda Niedweske
Max is a lesser sulfur crested cockatoo with beak and feather disease who came to live with me six years ago. I first saw him on March 5, 1987 at my brother's veterinary hospital, where he had been living for the previous three months. He had been left on a street corner in his cage with no covering to protect him from the elements. He was terrified of everyone and everything and clung for dear life on the side of his cage. He shook so violently with fear that I was convinced he would have a heart attack. Needless to say, I fell in love immediately with this featherless, scrawny, terrified little creature. I took him home that day to live with me and my three cockatiels in Boston.
Max acclimated quickly to the quiet, safe environment I had provided for him and the others. However, I began to notice that his beak was chipping and he began to develop sores in his mouth and on his body. In addition, his feathers were not growing in and those that did grow were not normal. In June 1987, I took him to the Angell Memorial Hospital to see Dr. Petrak, a renowned bird specialist, who diagnosed him with beak and feather disease. She explained that there was no cure and he would face an increasingly debilitating and painful future.
From June until December 1987, I saw Max deteriorate dramatically. His mouth was totally infested with sores, his body and his toes were covered with sores, his beak was so brittle that he lost most of his bottom beak, and what was left was almost transparent. He couldn't eat seeds or anything of any consequence, so I would soak his safflower seeds, which he loved, overnight and spend hours shelling them so that all he would have to do was swallow. I gave him creamed brown rice cereal mixed with chocolate ice cream, soup, and puffed corn cereal soaked in milk so that he could mash it in his gums. By the end of December 1987 he was reduced to eating the soaked safflower seeds and dried red hot peppers. In sheer desperation, I called Dr. Petrak once again and begged her for some assistance. She informed me that her colleague, Dr. Marjorie McMillan, was experimenting with shots of gammaglobulin with some success. Two days later, in ten degree weather, Max and I drove one hour to see Dr. McMillan.
Max received his first shot on a Wednesday and became very ill almost immediately. He was having difficulty maintaining his balance, wouldn't eat, and remained fluffed in the corner of his cage. However, on Sunday morning, I woke up to find that all of the sores in his mouth had dried up. We went every week for the next four weeks for injections. During that time I saw the sores on his back and toes begin to clear up and his beak got progressively stronger. The chipping and breaking had subsided and the terrible odor of decay that emanated from his beak no longer existed. We continued the treatments twice a month for the next four months and then once a month from thereon in.
After four months of treatments, he was eating seeds again. He slowly regained all of his previous activities and even added new ones. Max was so enthralled with his good fortune that he began climbing where he didn't belong, eating furniture and woodwork, tearing wallpaper off of walls. At last he could use his beak once again. His feathers have never grown back so he is unable to fly, but he can run and climb with the best of them.
Over the years, Max's personality has changed completely. He is outgoing, loves all people (except children), runs down the stairs when people come in the house, sits in the window for hours watching the world go by, kisses anyone who is willing, and dances to his Great-Aunt's singing. He loves "tic tac" breath mints because they fit so perfectly in his mouth and carries them all over the house. He sits on the dinner table with the family each night and goes from plate to plate eating whatever looks interesting. His vocabulary increases daily so that he now says "hello", "here", "what are you doing", "where are you going", "good boy", "Faye" (his singing Great Aunt), and argues with conviction in unintelligible gibberish.
His diet is as varied as we will provide and he will try anything. He begins his day with a scrambled egg and a poppy seed muffin with butter. He then has available to him throughout the day a variety of seeds, including a parakeet mix, sunflower seeds and safflower seeds, four Dunkin munchkin donuts, hot and jalapeno peppers, and corn chips. At approximately 2:00 p.m., he screams for his meal, which is a combination of his leftover scrambled egg and pastena. By 7:00 p.m., he is ready to eat again and will consume whatever is for dinner. His particular favorites are ziti with eggplant, pasta of any kind, salad, fruit, rice, all varieties of soup, egg foo yong, pickles, and on and on and on. Oftentimes he will get some dessert, including ice cream or whipped cream of which he is very fond.
I marvel each day at this creature who has brought so much love and joy to those around him. It never ceases to amaze me the power of love, attention, and modern-day medicine, together has given Max such a high quality of life. I consider the fact that he is still alive a true miracle and one for which I am grateful each day that I have with him.
Max is a lesser sulfur crested cockatoo with beak and feather disease who came to live with me six years ago. I first saw him on March 5, 1987 at my brother's veterinary hospital, where he had been living for the previous three months. He had been left on a street corner in his cage with no covering to protect him from the elements. He was terrified of everyone and everything and clung for dear life on the side of his cage. He shook so violently with fear that I was convinced he would have a heart attack. Needless to say, I fell in love immediately with this featherless, scrawny, terrified little creature. I took him home that day to live with me and my three cockatiels in Boston.
Max acclimated quickly to the quiet, safe environment I had provided for him and the others. However, I began to notice that his beak was chipping and he began to develop sores in his mouth and on his body. In addition, his feathers were not growing in and those that did grow were not normal. In June 1987, I took him to the Angell Memorial Hospital to see Dr. Petrak, a renowned bird specialist, who diagnosed him with beak and feather disease. She explained that there was no cure and he would face an increasingly debilitating and painful future.
From June until December 1987, I saw Max deteriorate dramatically. His mouth was totally infested with sores, his body and his toes were covered with sores, his beak was so brittle that he lost most of his bottom beak, and what was left was almost transparent. He couldn't eat seeds or anything of any consequence, so I would soak his safflower seeds, which he loved, overnight and spend hours shelling them so that all he would have to do was swallow. I gave him creamed brown rice cereal mixed with chocolate ice cream, soup, and puffed corn cereal soaked in milk so that he could mash it in his gums. By the end of December 1987 he was reduced to eating the soaked safflower seeds and dried red hot peppers. In sheer desperation, I called Dr. Petrak once again and begged her for some assistance. She informed me that her colleague, Dr. Marjorie McMillan, was experimenting with shots of gammaglobulin with some success. Two days later, in ten degree weather, Max and I drove one hour to see Dr. McMillan.
Max received his first shot on a Wednesday and became very ill almost immediately. He was having difficulty maintaining his balance, wouldn't eat, and remained fluffed in the corner of his cage. However, on Sunday morning, I woke up to find that all of the sores in his mouth had dried up. We went every week for the next four weeks for injections. During that time I saw the sores on his back and toes begin to clear up and his beak got progressively stronger. The chipping and breaking had subsided and the terrible odor of decay that emanated from his beak no longer existed. We continued the treatments twice a month for the next four months and then once a month from thereon in.
After four months of treatments, he was eating seeds again. He slowly regained all of his previous activities and even added new ones. Max was so enthralled with his good fortune that he began climbing where he didn't belong, eating furniture and woodwork, tearing wallpaper off of walls. At last he could use his beak once again. His feathers have never grown back so he is unable to fly, but he can run and climb with the best of them.
Over the years, Max's personality has changed completely. He is outgoing, loves all people (except children), runs down the stairs when people come in the house, sits in the window for hours watching the world go by, kisses anyone who is willing, and dances to his Great-Aunt's singing. He loves "tic tac" breath mints because they fit so perfectly in his mouth and carries them all over the house. He sits on the dinner table with the family each night and goes from plate to plate eating whatever looks interesting. His vocabulary increases daily so that he now says "hello", "here", "what are you doing", "where are you going", "good boy", "Faye" (his singing Great Aunt), and argues with conviction in unintelligible gibberish.
His diet is as varied as we will provide and he will try anything. He begins his day with a scrambled egg and a poppy seed muffin with butter. He then has available to him throughout the day a variety of seeds, including a parakeet mix, sunflower seeds and safflower seeds, four Dunkin munchkin donuts, hot and jalapeno peppers, and corn chips. At approximately 2:00 p.m., he screams for his meal, which is a combination of his leftover scrambled egg and pastena. By 7:00 p.m., he is ready to eat again and will consume whatever is for dinner. His particular favorites are ziti with eggplant, pasta of any kind, salad, fruit, rice, all varieties of soup, egg foo yong, pickles, and on and on and on. Oftentimes he will get some dessert, including ice cream or whipped cream of which he is very fond.
I marvel each day at this creature who has brought so much love and joy to those around him. It never ceases to amaze me the power of love, attention, and modern-day medicine, together has given Max such a high quality of life. I consider the fact that he is still alive a true miracle and one for which I am grateful each day that I have with him.
Love, Sweet Love
By Richard "Schmaltzman" Chiger, O.Y., V.E.Y.
Not being a veteran bird breeder, I am generally amazed by the sweet, and new to me, acts of affection that seriously connected birds show to each other. Case in point is my cockatiel couple, Zeke and Penelope. I am always telling about them flying all over me or how hard she has worked without his help in raising a family.
Now, however, I have been witness to the sweetest interaction between the two of them. They stand on a cage, or shelf, or perch or branch together and she lowers her head to him. As soon as she does this, he, almost shyly, walks over to her and puts the top of his head against hers. They stand like that for several minutes at a time. I generally leave, giving them their privacy, so I don't know exactly how long this, this show of affection goes on.
Once, as I saw them in this compromising situation, Antonio flew onto the place where they were standing. Zeke, immediately, turned around and chased him, yelling at him the whole time. I guess there are certain situations where "the child' ;is not welcome and this was definitely one of them.
I believe that all of this will lead to some more clutches of baby cockatiels. I personally wish they would use birdy birth control, because I get stuck taking care of the kids after they grow up. As of now, Zeke has begun an investigation of the inside of an old classroom desk. Penelope has been following him in there and I think that will probably be their new nest............
Good luck to them. Perhaps this time, Zeke will help take care of the babies, or maybe just bring some nice treats like a bird's idea of flowers and candy to Penelope. All that remains to be seen........................................................
RÌCHÌE
Not being a veteran bird breeder, I am generally amazed by the sweet, and new to me, acts of affection that seriously connected birds show to each other. Case in point is my cockatiel couple, Zeke and Penelope. I am always telling about them flying all over me or how hard she has worked without his help in raising a family.
Now, however, I have been witness to the sweetest interaction between the two of them. They stand on a cage, or shelf, or perch or branch together and she lowers her head to him. As soon as she does this, he, almost shyly, walks over to her and puts the top of his head against hers. They stand like that for several minutes at a time. I generally leave, giving them their privacy, so I don't know exactly how long this, this show of affection goes on.
Once, as I saw them in this compromising situation, Antonio flew onto the place where they were standing. Zeke, immediately, turned around and chased him, yelling at him the whole time. I guess there are certain situations where "the child' ;is not welcome and this was definitely one of them.
I believe that all of this will lead to some more clutches of baby cockatiels. I personally wish they would use birdy birth control, because I get stuck taking care of the kids after they grow up. As of now, Zeke has begun an investigation of the inside of an old classroom desk. Penelope has been following him in there and I think that will probably be their new nest............
Good luck to them. Perhaps this time, Zeke will help take care of the babies, or maybe just bring some nice treats like a bird's idea of flowers and candy to Penelope. All that remains to be seen........................................................
RÌCHÌE
HARRY COMES HOME TO ROOST
By Matt Frumess
It would be easier to explain if I weren't an atheist. My daughter Rebecca's former bedroom (our parental philosophy has always been "when they are graduated from high school, sell their beds") had long ago became the Animal Room. Tenants included were Becky's 7-toot-long red-tailed boa (her apartment is too small), my little budgie and her friend, the even littler society finch, in one cage and my Orange-Winged Amazon Quackenbush in the other cage that he shared with Baron, the feisty Maroon-bellied Conure that he had inadvertently bonded with years ago.
At the end of the summer, the society finch died (after the last Seinfeld, what was there to live for?) and Richie asked if he could bring the parakeet to his classroom, the female budgie of his class' pair having recently died. I of course said yes. I hoped the bird who had no name would be happy.
As summer turned into autumn, my friend Stu had taken up residence in Becky's room. Did I mention that the Animal Room was also our Guest Room. It keeps guests to a minimum. Two days before Thanksgiving, the morning Stu was to depart for his winter roost in Florida, he came downstairs and told me that he thought Quackenbush was dead. Why? Well, he was hanging upside down from his perch. I told him that birds weren't bats and that they did not sleep hanging from their perches. Indeed, old Quackenbush was dead. He had not had a bad life, Baron having entertained and given him devotion for the past 10 years. Quackenbush was not a young bird when I got him-Richie had placed him with me when over 13 years ago, his previous owner had decided to spend her remaining days traveling the country. Becky, who always had a special relationship with the birds, took Baron back with her to New Paltz where she reports that he gets continual attention from her roommates and is having a grand old time (I've always wanted to write that.)
The day after Thanksgiving, I got a call from Richie. "Who do you love?" he chanted. I thought I was supposed to sing the song but I couldn't remember the complex lyrics so I said something on the order of "Huh?!" "I got you the Grey. When do you want to go?" Richie replied. For months, Richie had been telling me about a woman, Pat, with an African Grey that she could not handle, literally. The bird only got along with her not-very-welcome, and apparently not very stable, ex-husband. As far as she could tell, Richie had been reporting, the bird would require substantial work. I was more than willing, African Greys being my favorites. Furthermore, Richie knew that I had been devastated when Erithacus, my first Grey that I had purchased as a baby in Queens 20 years before, was killed while he was waddling around my backyard by a neighbor's dog. For years I did not have the stomach or resources to replace him.
< p />
We pulled up to an attractive, well-kept ranch house and were greeted warmly first by Pat, then enthusiastically by her three dogs, a Dalmatian, a boxer and a collie. It was immediately clear that Pat doted on her animals. They were affectionate, fearless and had the run of the house. She led us into her bedroom where the birds resided (she has a beautiful Cockatoo that she cuddles like a Furby) and there in a large cage was the Grey, named Bogey. Actually, the large cage was so chock full of toys that Bogey was hard to find.
As Pats kids passed across the kitchen, she gave a detailed rundown on the foods Bogey preferred-chickpeas, sugar-snap peas, Kaytee treats, dried corn on the cob, grapes, apple cores, Indian nuts--- and the litter she used (crushed walnut shells). Her concern and devotion to the bird made his inability to tolerate her a typically frustrating avian tale. Meanwhile, her only concern was that he get a good home.
Well, the rather chunky Grey had no hesitation coming to me or Richie. He quietly went into the carrier, peering intently through the slits on the side. He undoubtedly chuckled, watching the two of us attempt to disassemble the cage. Eventually we got it apart and into my Jeep, thanked Pat profusely, promising her visitation rights and interim progress reports.
From the moment we got home, Bogey showed no signs of fear, though he was a bit jumpy at first. He quickly hopped onto my hand whenever I extended it into his cage: clearly he was not particularly neurotic. He joined us at the dinner table, hopping around, eating nearly anything chewable. He particularly likes the sweet potato casserole that was left over from Thanksgiving. He'll shove his face into a bowl of it and eat until its gone-and his head is covered with an orange helmet.
After a day or so, I changed his name to Harry, my father's name-why, I'm not sure. I didn't like Bogey, and as the little guy is less than two years old, I didn't think the name change would be particularly traumatic. (I did have to replace his stationary, though.)
Since I usually work at home, Harry spends most of his waking hours with me, while I'm on the phone, while I eat -well, that's my day! He has that insatiable pscittacine need to have his head scratched, which I normally oblige him-for a while, at least. He joins me for all my meals and has a remarkably broad palate: pasta, sautéed onions, sweet potato casserole, pearl barley, cooked peas, Kaytee pellets, sweet potato casserole, pears, bananas, turkey, liver, sweet potato casserole. Like my kids, he'll try anything at least once.
He's young and mischievous. He loves to shred pencils. If I'd let him, he'd surely remove all the buttons from my shirt. He's wonderfully affectionate and great buddy. So thank you, Richie. And Pat. Sometimes dreams do come true.
It would be easier to explain if I weren't an atheist. My daughter Rebecca's former bedroom (our parental philosophy has always been "when they are graduated from high school, sell their beds") had long ago became the Animal Room. Tenants included were Becky's 7-toot-long red-tailed boa (her apartment is too small), my little budgie and her friend, the even littler society finch, in one cage and my Orange-Winged Amazon Quackenbush in the other cage that he shared with Baron, the feisty Maroon-bellied Conure that he had inadvertently bonded with years ago.
At the end of the summer, the society finch died (after the last Seinfeld, what was there to live for?) and Richie asked if he could bring the parakeet to his classroom, the female budgie of his class' pair having recently died. I of course said yes. I hoped the bird who had no name would be happy.
As summer turned into autumn, my friend Stu had taken up residence in Becky's room. Did I mention that the Animal Room was also our Guest Room. It keeps guests to a minimum. Two days before Thanksgiving, the morning Stu was to depart for his winter roost in Florida, he came downstairs and told me that he thought Quackenbush was dead. Why? Well, he was hanging upside down from his perch. I told him that birds weren't bats and that they did not sleep hanging from their perches. Indeed, old Quackenbush was dead. He had not had a bad life, Baron having entertained and given him devotion for the past 10 years. Quackenbush was not a young bird when I got him-Richie had placed him with me when over 13 years ago, his previous owner had decided to spend her remaining days traveling the country. Becky, who always had a special relationship with the birds, took Baron back with her to New Paltz where she reports that he gets continual attention from her roommates and is having a grand old time (I've always wanted to write that.)
The day after Thanksgiving, I got a call from Richie. "Who do you love?" he chanted. I thought I was supposed to sing the song but I couldn't remember the complex lyrics so I said something on the order of "Huh?!" "I got you the Grey. When do you want to go?" Richie replied. For months, Richie had been telling me about a woman, Pat, with an African Grey that she could not handle, literally. The bird only got along with her not-very-welcome, and apparently not very stable, ex-husband. As far as she could tell, Richie had been reporting, the bird would require substantial work. I was more than willing, African Greys being my favorites. Furthermore, Richie knew that I had been devastated when Erithacus, my first Grey that I had purchased as a baby in Queens 20 years before, was killed while he was waddling around my backyard by a neighbor's dog. For years I did not have the stomach or resources to replace him.
< p />
We pulled up to an attractive, well-kept ranch house and were greeted warmly first by Pat, then enthusiastically by her three dogs, a Dalmatian, a boxer and a collie. It was immediately clear that Pat doted on her animals. They were affectionate, fearless and had the run of the house. She led us into her bedroom where the birds resided (she has a beautiful Cockatoo that she cuddles like a Furby) and there in a large cage was the Grey, named Bogey. Actually, the large cage was so chock full of toys that Bogey was hard to find.
As Pats kids passed across the kitchen, she gave a detailed rundown on the foods Bogey preferred-chickpeas, sugar-snap peas, Kaytee treats, dried corn on the cob, grapes, apple cores, Indian nuts--- and the litter she used (crushed walnut shells). Her concern and devotion to the bird made his inability to tolerate her a typically frustrating avian tale. Meanwhile, her only concern was that he get a good home.
Well, the rather chunky Grey had no hesitation coming to me or Richie. He quietly went into the carrier, peering intently through the slits on the side. He undoubtedly chuckled, watching the two of us attempt to disassemble the cage. Eventually we got it apart and into my Jeep, thanked Pat profusely, promising her visitation rights and interim progress reports.
From the moment we got home, Bogey showed no signs of fear, though he was a bit jumpy at first. He quickly hopped onto my hand whenever I extended it into his cage: clearly he was not particularly neurotic. He joined us at the dinner table, hopping around, eating nearly anything chewable. He particularly likes the sweet potato casserole that was left over from Thanksgiving. He'll shove his face into a bowl of it and eat until its gone-and his head is covered with an orange helmet.
After a day or so, I changed his name to Harry, my father's name-why, I'm not sure. I didn't like Bogey, and as the little guy is less than two years old, I didn't think the name change would be particularly traumatic. (I did have to replace his stationary, though.)
Since I usually work at home, Harry spends most of his waking hours with me, while I'm on the phone, while I eat -well, that's my day! He has that insatiable pscittacine need to have his head scratched, which I normally oblige him-for a while, at least. He joins me for all my meals and has a remarkably broad palate: pasta, sautéed onions, sweet potato casserole, pearl barley, cooked peas, Kaytee pellets, sweet potato casserole, pears, bananas, turkey, liver, sweet potato casserole. Like my kids, he'll try anything at least once.
He's young and mischievous. He loves to shred pencils. If I'd let him, he'd surely remove all the buttons from my shirt. He's wonderfully affectionate and great buddy. So thank you, Richie. And Pat. Sometimes dreams do come true.
DUDLEY AND FRIENDS
By Kristine E. Cohen
About 3 years ago I went to the Olive Garden in Middletown, New York for dinner with a few relatives and my children to eat dinner. They told me it would be about an hour wait. I then decided to go to Petco and look around. I asked the store clerk if they have any handleable birds so I could show my children. I personally didn't know anything about birds. He told me he had a Sun Conure who was extremely friendly. The bird was playing in my hair, my children's hair and was giving us kisses on our face. We couldn't believe that a bird could be so lovable and playful.
The next day I called Matthew B. Frumess to give me some advice on birds. He told me I should start slow and get a Quaker from Agway Pet in Liberty. I went the next day and bought one. I hand fed this cute little bundle of joy and instantly fell in love. My heart was stricken with bird fever. I went to the Catskill Bird Club for the first time with my Quaker, Chi-Chi and asked everyone I could about every kind of bird imaginable that could fit into my busy lifestyle. I decided I wanted a bigger bird.
I went back to Petco to look around. My husband loves to whistle so he was whistling like a telephone and a bird started to mimic his whistle instantly. My husband was amazed and wanted to know which bird could do this! The salesgirl showed my husband an African Grey. What a Bird! My husband loved this bird. I on the other hand thought he was quite ugly compared to all the beautiful birds you can buy.
To make a long story short, we found a breeder from the Catskill Bird Club who breeds a variety of birds along with African Greys. He happened to have three of them. I thought they looked like little dinosaurs but cute in their own sort of way. I picked one out against my better judgment and after a couple of weeks going back and forth to the breeder's home to hand feed him and have him get used to me, I took him home in a fish tank I bought from Agway with paper towels. I thought to myself, I hope this bird gets better looking. My husband took an instant liking to this bird and we called him Dudley (since he looked like a dinosaur). Within a year he started talking up a storm. To this day, he doesn't shut up. I now think he is the cutest bird in the world. His personality is the best and he gets along with everyone that comes to my house. He doesn't bite anyone. He mimics our dog, squeaky doors, the smoke alarm when the battery gets low, the phone, etc. He calls my dog, my husband and my son. He pretends to talk on the phone by saying, Hello, Okay, Goodbye! No one believes that a bird can talk this well when they are over my house.
I feed him a variety of foods. For example, spaghetti, corn, sweet potatoes, (any kind of potato is his favorite), and meat. He pretty much eats all the leftovers from our table. (I think my dog gets jealous, since she can't have any.) The only time this bird got nippy with my husband is when we purchased a German Shepherd dog. The bird screams Tasha every morning! I think birds get extremely jealous when some of your attention goes to something else. After 6 months, the bird is much better with my husband.
I have since acquired 2 Cockatiels, 1 Senegal, 1 Parakeet, and 1 Bunny. I also have 4 cats and 2 fish tanks .1 Regular and 1 Salt Water
I won the parakeet at the Catskill Bird Show. Everyone said he was the sweetest bird they ever saw. Until! I put a mirror in his cage. I think he thinks the mirror is his companion and doesn't want anything to do with anything or anyone else. I have since taken it out and go to him everyday. He looks at me like he is amazed that I try this hard. I honestly think he will get better with time. My children and I will keep working with him and I will let you know if he gets better
I can honestly tell you I have a lot of cleaning to do, but I love these guys just like they were my children and they depend on me just as much.
Thanks for reading my story.
PS. FOOD FOR THOUGHT
My African Grey was an extremely bad feather picker. I stopped clipping his wings. His feathers healed up and I truly believe that clipping their wings annoy them. He only had feathers on his head. Now he is extremely beautiful again after months and months of his feathers growing back. He never has picked another feather. The only downfall is that you cannot let him outside at any time on your shoulder due to flying away. I don't believe a hand-raised bird deserves the fate of flying away into the wild blue yonder. This is my opinion, but if your bird has the same problem, try it. You might be amazed!
About 3 years ago I went to the Olive Garden in Middletown, New York for dinner with a few relatives and my children to eat dinner. They told me it would be about an hour wait. I then decided to go to Petco and look around. I asked the store clerk if they have any handleable birds so I could show my children. I personally didn't know anything about birds. He told me he had a Sun Conure who was extremely friendly. The bird was playing in my hair, my children's hair and was giving us kisses on our face. We couldn't believe that a bird could be so lovable and playful.
The next day I called Matthew B. Frumess to give me some advice on birds. He told me I should start slow and get a Quaker from Agway Pet in Liberty. I went the next day and bought one. I hand fed this cute little bundle of joy and instantly fell in love. My heart was stricken with bird fever. I went to the Catskill Bird Club for the first time with my Quaker, Chi-Chi and asked everyone I could about every kind of bird imaginable that could fit into my busy lifestyle. I decided I wanted a bigger bird.
I went back to Petco to look around. My husband loves to whistle so he was whistling like a telephone and a bird started to mimic his whistle instantly. My husband was amazed and wanted to know which bird could do this! The salesgirl showed my husband an African Grey. What a Bird! My husband loved this bird. I on the other hand thought he was quite ugly compared to all the beautiful birds you can buy.
To make a long story short, we found a breeder from the Catskill Bird Club who breeds a variety of birds along with African Greys. He happened to have three of them. I thought they looked like little dinosaurs but cute in their own sort of way. I picked one out against my better judgment and after a couple of weeks going back and forth to the breeder's home to hand feed him and have him get used to me, I took him home in a fish tank I bought from Agway with paper towels. I thought to myself, I hope this bird gets better looking. My husband took an instant liking to this bird and we called him Dudley (since he looked like a dinosaur). Within a year he started talking up a storm. To this day, he doesn't shut up. I now think he is the cutest bird in the world. His personality is the best and he gets along with everyone that comes to my house. He doesn't bite anyone. He mimics our dog, squeaky doors, the smoke alarm when the battery gets low, the phone, etc. He calls my dog, my husband and my son. He pretends to talk on the phone by saying, Hello, Okay, Goodbye! No one believes that a bird can talk this well when they are over my house.
I feed him a variety of foods. For example, spaghetti, corn, sweet potatoes, (any kind of potato is his favorite), and meat. He pretty much eats all the leftovers from our table. (I think my dog gets jealous, since she can't have any.) The only time this bird got nippy with my husband is when we purchased a German Shepherd dog. The bird screams Tasha every morning! I think birds get extremely jealous when some of your attention goes to something else. After 6 months, the bird is much better with my husband.
I have since acquired 2 Cockatiels, 1 Senegal, 1 Parakeet, and 1 Bunny. I also have 4 cats and 2 fish tanks .1 Regular and 1 Salt Water
I won the parakeet at the Catskill Bird Show. Everyone said he was the sweetest bird they ever saw. Until! I put a mirror in his cage. I think he thinks the mirror is his companion and doesn't want anything to do with anything or anyone else. I have since taken it out and go to him everyday. He looks at me like he is amazed that I try this hard. I honestly think he will get better with time. My children and I will keep working with him and I will let you know if he gets better
I can honestly tell you I have a lot of cleaning to do, but I love these guys just like they were my children and they depend on me just as much.
Thanks for reading my story.
PS. FOOD FOR THOUGHT
My African Grey was an extremely bad feather picker. I stopped clipping his wings. His feathers healed up and I truly believe that clipping their wings annoy them. He only had feathers on his head. Now he is extremely beautiful again after months and months of his feathers growing back. He never has picked another feather. The only downfall is that you cannot let him outside at any time on your shoulder due to flying away. I don't believe a hand-raised bird deserves the fate of flying away into the wild blue yonder. This is my opinion, but if your bird has the same problem, try it. You might be amazed!
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