Parrots Teach Man to Speak Again

Brian Wilson, from Damascus, Maryland, suffered life-threatening injuries in the accidnet (sic) 14 years ago. He also lost his ability to speak.

But he now claims that the chatter of pet parrots confounded the bleak outlook of doctors, who were convinced that he would spend the rest of his life in bed at a nursing home.

"Two birds taught me to talk again," he said. "I had such a bad head injury I was never supposed to talk any more than a two-year-old."

But two of the birds that he had had as pets since he was a child "just kept talking to me and talking to me".

"Then all of a sudden, a word popped out, then two, then more."

To show his gratitude to the birds who helped him on the path to rehabilitation, Mr Wilson has devoted his life to feathered pets whose owners are no longer able or want to keep them.

He now shares his home with about 80 brightly plumed exotic birds, from snow-white cockatoos to scarlet or blue and green macaws to African grey parrots.

He has set up a foundation called the Wilson Parrot Foundation, which also offers the services of the birds to entertain at birthday parties and corporate events.

"You wonder why I rescue birds? They helped me to talk again, so now I take care of them," he said.

from 2/27/09 telegraph.co.uk

Update

Well, the last update saw us with a statewide emergency situation of an ice storm. Then it snowed about four inches. Then, in a day or so, it turned 60 degrees for a couple of days. Typical weather around here.

It was 50 degrees here this afternoon, and by 7 we were having a mini-blizzard so thick I could barely see to drive home from the movies with a friend.

Let's see -- last week my 14.5 year old refrigerator died, which I did not appreciate. I'm used to appliances lasting and lasting and lasting. But, as my cousin reminded me, appliances today are loaded with features and mostly made in China. So I bit the bullet and bought a new one. My old refrigerator was very wide and the door wouldn't open completely all the way without hitting the stove (I have a pitifully small kitchen), but I just put seldom-used stuff on that side.

So I bought a side-by-side with ice/water dispenser, even though I don't need or really want them. The only models they had without the dispenser was $1,400 -- no, it doesn't make sense to me either. I don't have a water line set up for the dispenser, so I've called my plumber to see how much that would cost. He hasn't called me back, which makes me think it'll cost way more than I can afford. Lucky me, my income tax refund will pay for the frig.

It took a week for the frig to be delivered, and I threw out everything -- most of it old anyway. And today went grocery shopping. It ain't easy living without a frig for a week, and I had to refill my cooler every day.

Everything else is about the same. I've been really busy with superiorparrot.com (y'all send your pictures in now, ya hear?), and the chorus and just general life stuff.

Every evening I wonder why I want to learn how to play piano when I hate to practice so much, but O keeps after me and I'm very slowly progressing. I don't really mind practicing when I'm actually sitting at the keyboard, but it's so hard to make myself go do it. And my fingers keep getting confused about where they're supposed to be. O laughs and says it's my brain that controls my fingers, not the other way around. But I'm not convinced.

The chorus' winter concert was about a month ago, and we all wore evening gowns or long pants. I bought a teal sparkly gown with a deep neckine, and every move I made it threatened to release my breasts. But the bosoms stayed where they belonged and I enjoyed wearing something long and formal, so it all worked out (so to speak). I kidded my singing mates that I was the resident slut -- somebody has to do it, you know.

I've discovered facebook.com and am really enjoying keeping up with my friends all over the country -- some of whom I actually know in person.

The publishing house that's publishing my poetry book contacted me -- it should be out in June, but he's concerned about the title. I had one title then changed it. He said the new one matches a zillion titles already in amazon.com, and would I consider changing it again. So tonight I decided to title the book with the title of the penultimate poem in the book.

The birds are wonderfully spoiled and demanding, just as they should be. I just posted about a little game I've started with Charli.

I think that's about it! More news as it happens . . .

Charli Toes

I've started a little routine with my brown-headed parrot Charli. When it's time for bed, I cover up three sides of her cage. She likes to hang upside in the dark corner of the cage and watch the procedure.

One night, who knows why, I gently touched one of her toes while she was hanging upside down and said, "One Charli toe!." Then I touched the next toe and said, "Two Charli toe!", and so on. When I got to "Eight Charli toe!" I said it in an excited voice and patted all of her toes clinging to the bars of the cage. Then I told her it was sleepy time (code words) and pulled down the fourth cover of her cage.

She doesn't like her feet touched, but she tolerated this well. So I did this the next night, and she seemed to like it. Or at least tolerate it -- as you would the ravings of a lunatic -- no harm, just wait till it's over.

Now, of course, it's a nightly ritual. When I forget and start to pull down the last cover, she'll chirp and look at me, upside down. So I have to go play Charli Toes with her. It's very sweet. A friend of mine saw me do it one night and she just laughed. She has parrots, so she understands how insane they make us.

On Second Thought

This morning I awoke to the trees being coated with an inch of ice, branches bowed down to the ground. Some of the branches were touching my house and there was an occasional whoosh and crack as more limbs broke off.

We got two more inches of snow on top of the inch of ice. And, of course, the power went back out at quarter past noon. I waited until about 3, then packed up the birds and went to C's house. The utilities company said power was out for over 500,000 in the state and they expected it would take two weeks before power would be completely restored.

Around two (and the main reason I left) the young woman from next door came over to ask again if I was all right because they were leaving again. She handed me a piece of paper with two numbers on it -- "my grandma's number" and "my number." No names, which wouldn't do me any good anyway, since I don't know my neighbors' names.

I aged about 30 more years after this encounter, just as I did last night. But C's husband explained to me that the city was urging everyone to check on their neighbors if they were elderly or if they lived alone. So I'm going to assume they were nicely checking up on me because I live alone rather than thinking I'm old, old, old.

Very kind of them and I suppose I need to ask their names. sigh . . .

It was tricky getting out of my subdivision but once I got onto the main roads I was okay. The temperatures were around 30 and the main roads were wet and blocked with the occasional fallen limb. But the temperature is dropping to the 20s and the wet roads are frozen.

About the only way I'll know if the power is back on my house is to drive over there, and I'm not too eager to do that on frozen streets. So C and I and three of her daughters and her green-check conure are watching Youtube. And giggling. Her umbrella cockatoo is trying to sleep under his covers beside the kitchen table where we're all gathered. My babies are in their little travel cages in the basement with their covers over them. Soon I'll be down there with them to sleep on the couch.

sigh . . .

I've got my voice back and I fully intend to make dress rehearsal tomorrow night. But the logistics are going to drive me crazy.

Ice Storm, Neighbors, Darkness . . .

I've been home since Monday afternoon with some version of sinusitis, laying on the couch taking antibiotics and decongestants and occasionally cruising the internet until it's time for another nap.

We had an ice storm here last night -- about an inch of ice over everything and maybe half an inch of snow. Everything looks lovely -- from inside. The local TV people kept telling us this afternoon that tonight would be seriously worse than last night and to not go outside if possible. I took them at their word. Many areas of the city were without power.

Because I work in a hospital I'm expected to be at work no matter the weather or conditions (though they do draw the line at risking your life to get to the office). Even though all I do is shuffle papers, I'm still expected to be there. So I felt a little guilty that I was home sick while all this awful weather was happening, and knowing how my co-workers were scraping ice off their cars and braving the icy roads. Plus you're never allowed to take sick leave during a weather or other emergency unless you have "proof" of illness. But I have the receipt from the doctor's office and my little cache of drugs as proof to anyone.

I was laying on the couch, not watching the TV that was on, when the power went out. I had already put the birds to bed, i.e., put the covers over their cages. I had my laptop in my lap so I used its light to make my way to the hall closet where I had put my big flashlight. Except that it wasn't there. I help my laptop at different angles to search but finally gave up. I found one of those cheap round battery-operated lights you're supposed to be able to stick on your walls, but they never worked long for me. But this one worked. And I did manage to find my Black & Decker SnakeLight, which I love.

Back to the couch I went, when I heard something crunching through hard snow across my front yard. Then someone began banging on my door. I took my little round disc light, opened the front door, and shone the light at the person there. It was a young black woman, her face nearly hidden in her faux fur hood. Was I okay, she asked.

I noticed the big truck next door was running and could see its tail lights lit. I assured her I was fine and then I asked if she was from next door. She smiled and said yes.

"Y'all leaving," I asked.

"Yeah, we're going to grandma's!"

"Have a good time," I said, as she crunched her way back to the truck. I could almost smell the popcorn and hot cocoa.

Our subdivision is completely dead without light, and many people leave when there's a power outage. So it was nice of the neighbors to ask about me. But it also made me feel approximately 2,319 years old. You know, the old lady in the neighborhood that parents make their children "check on."

Back to the couch, as befits an "old" person. I propped the light on my belly and read my way through my latest issue of The Sun (a magazine I highly recommend). Time passed.

An hour. Ninety minutes. The occasional snap and crash of a limb breaking under the weight of ice. Sirens. The sound of tires far off spinning on ice.

I had a blanket on the couch (again, like an "old" person would have) and I tried to map out what I would do if the temperature dropped into the 20s or teens. My entire house is electric. It was feeling a bit chilly but more like walking into a really cool room after being out in the hot sun.

Two hours.

My car is covered with ice and mired in hard crunchy snow. If things got bad I'd have to take my birds somewhere. How long would it take me to clean off and warm up the car? Should I call my vet's office or home now to reserve a space? Should I just wait it out? The temperature had hovered around 30 all day and my house is pretty well insulated, so I decided to wait it out.

Several years ago we had a horrible ice storm. Power out in my area for seven days; some other areas ten days. And it was very, very cold. I managed to get my birds to a pet store that was accepting animals and still had power -- my vet's office was overflowing by the time I realized the power wasn't coming back on. For two nights I slept at the hospital -- the first night on the floor of my office because I couldn't find a security guard to let me onto the floor where some beds were open; the second night in a room overlooking the emergency entrance. It was a bad storm and a bad experience for most of the state, and we all learned a lot from it.

Would I have to do the same thing tonight? Plus I was sick and being out in the ice wouldn't help matters at all. I had made my doctor swear that the antibiotics and decongestants would work in time so that I could sing at dress rehearsal Thursday night and the concert Saturday night -- this was no time to risk getting sicker if it could be avoided.

Two and a half hours. I finished The Sun and dug around the shelf under the coffee table for another magazine to read. I asked the birds if they were all right, but of course they refused to answer.

A flicker of light, darkness, then full power returned. And stayed. It's been back on for about 30 minutes now, and the heat pump is on in full force. It got to 61 degrees in the house so the birds were in no danger, and everything in the refrigerator is just about as cold as it was three hours ago, so that's fine, too.

It's still very pretty outside though -- all that ice coating all those limbs, shining in the street lights.

I'm going to bed, and I'll be leaving a little light on. Just in case.