Sunday, February 1, 2009
So this is my pet bird. She is a grey monk parakeet. Her name is Birdie and she adopted us.
A few years ago, she flew into our backyard. I stepped out of my house and my neighbors were in my front yard. They were trying to catch this bird. She was barely flying and was landing on cats and dogs to play with them. The cats were trying to eat her but she had no clue. They could tell that it was a pet bird that had escaped and had no outside survival skills. She would become cat food if we did not help. So we did. They caught her.
My neighbor did not want her as a pet. She had 6 cats and 2 dogs. So I volunteered to take her. My neighbor asked me, "Don't you want to ask your hubby? You may have to keep her forever." And I said, "Naah... He'll accept it."
So walked into my house with the bird and said, "Hello! I have a present for you." Ha ha. I am clever sometimes.
My hubby instantly took control of the situation. She was biting everyone but he talked to her and soothed her. He gave her water and some bread. I could tell that he made an instant connection and was in love.
We tried to find the owner but never could. We called her Birdie because we did not want to get emotionally attached to her. We still call her Birdie.
I don't like to keep birds in cages. So we let her roam around. She wasn't really flying. Just hopping around. I did not want to clip her wings. To me, that was inhumane.
One day my hubby was out of town for work. Birdie decided to fly around. Which was fine until she landed on my younger son's shoulder and latched on to his ear. She was biting him hard and would not let go.
So what's a Mom supposed to do? I grabbed a broom and tried to swat Birdie off. My intention was to use the soft side of the broom to disengage her. I tried. But I ended up hitting my son with the broom. He was not happy. "Mom stop! You are not helping me!"
So essentially, my son was being bitten by Birdie AND I was hitting him with a broom. How many people have I offended by now?
All this happened in a matter of seconds. Birdie got bored with the ear and finally flew off some place else.
So we did what any normal people would do. We all ran upstairs to my bedroom and shut the door.
I made a frantic phone call to my hubby and said, "I don't care what you are doing but you need to come home right now. Birdie is attacking us. But don't worry because we are safe in the bedroom."
Did I get any sympathy from him? Nope. He found the whole situation very funny. Then gave me mathematical numbers about how much we weigh and how much the Birdie weighs. I hate math. Not funny at all.
We were locked up in my bedroom for a couple of hours until my hubby came and subdued Birdie.
He said: I can't believe that you were held hostage by a bird.
I said: Get the wings clipped tomorrow.
Birdie loves my hubby and hates me with vengeance.
I could tell that she came from a very decedent environment. She likes to eat from people's plates. She likes alcohol. Yes she does. Not that we give her any. But she will attack those wine glasses. Here is proof...
No we don't let her eat off our plates or give her alcohol. But that doesn't stop her from attacking our stuff. She demands that she sits on our coffee table when we sit and watch TV. She is a diva.
Some days I ask myself, "How did I end up with such an eccentric bird? Why don't I get to be a diva?"