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!