Other Toys

Charli is a paper chewer. She'll chew on wood once in awhile, but she much prefers paper. She adores chewing on my personal and valuable books, so it's a constant battle keeping her away from my bookshelves.

 Her most favorite toy is a simple roll of blank adding machine tape. I buy it in boxes of 12 rolls, and stick one roll on a pencil, which I then thread through the bars of her cage. Immediately she begins chewing on it.

 Slowly and methodically, she chews and gnaws on the roll until the paper begins to fall in long drapes of ribbon down to the floor of the cage.

Of course, there are always lots and lots of little bits of paper that fall outside the cage, which I cannot avoid walking in and tracking all over the house so that within a day or so my entire house looks like it has been in a snow storm.

No matter. The tightly wound paper rolls make Charli happy. 

And that makes me happy.  

Toys

The whole point of a bird toy is for the parrot to chew it up, dismantle and destroy it.  This is why so many of us buy all manner of toys -- hanging toys, foot toys, big and small, some with bells or buzzers, expensive, cheap . . .

It's also why my house is littered with dozens of toys my birds are not the least bit interested in.  Well, until Cheb came along, that is.

He has shown great determination in chewing up each toy he comes across, especially the ones that Flash has ignored for years.

I haven't seem him show a preference for paper over textiles or big over small.  If it's with beak's reach it needs to be chewed on immediately.  Maybe now I can finally put some of these dozens of parrot toys to good use!

Cleaning, Cleaning, Cleaning

It never ends with parrots!  Flight feathers, down feathers, tiny bits of dust, seed husks, pellet crumbs, splinters of wood from toys . . . .

And the cages. Paper has to be changed, bars need to be wiped down, water and food dishes need to be washed and dried, perches cleaned of poop splatters . . . .

I do my best but it never seems good enough.  If I had larger birds that threw their food onto the walls I don't know what I'd do.

It's bad enough I feel my parrot slave friends are judging my bad cage cleaning habits, but then I remind myself that they're as bad as me. We're all too busy and frazzled to keep spotless bird cages.  So I clean hard enough and frequently enough to keep the bacteria factor at bay, then sit back and watch my parrots mess everything up again . . . .

Feeding Birdies

My birds seem to like Harrison's birdie bread -- that is, they chow down as soon as I give them a bowl of it, but they never seem to want seconds.  I don't think I'm giving them too much because I've seen how many Nutriberries they can scarf down without taking a breath.

If you're familiar with Pat Sund's blog Parrot Nation, you probably already know about chop.  Pat didn't invent chop, but she has brought it to everyone's attention -- so much so that nearly every parrot slave has at least a few packages of chop in the depths of their freezers. 

Of course, I've made a couple of batches of chop myself.  It's not necessarily difficult but it does require some thought and planning.  For example, I was making it for two small birds but there's no graceful way to purchase half or quarter of a cabbage at the grocery.  Flax seed is easy to measure from those big containers at the local food co-op but canned black-eyed peas not so much.  So I ended up with a huge amount of chop I figured would last me at least a year.  Honestly, I froze it in tiny amounts of less than two tablespoons.

My parrots eat it with about the same enthusiasm as they do birdie bread.  They love it for one meal, then they want something else.  This used to worry me until I decided to look at it in a different way.

They all eat Harrison's as their basic diet, plus whatever table food I share with them plus Nutriberries plus chop or birdie bread.  My avian vet has assured me they're all healthy.  So I'm thinking now that they aren't overly interested in second helpings of anything because their diet is pretty much balanced (as far as any of us really know about parrot diets).  The only thing they ever want seconds of is Nutriberries.  The only thing I usually want seconds of is ice cream, so I understand.

I think next I'm going to try one of Pat's grain bakes.  I'll let you know how that turns out, too.

Living with a Talking Parrot

I've never lived with a talking parrot before Cheb, so I haven't been prepared for the nightly ritual, which goes as follows . . . .

I cover up Cheb's cage and wish him a good night.  A few minutes later I hear a soft "whatcha doing," followed by a louder "whatcha doing."  Followed then by "pretty bird," repeated at various sound levels.  Then an entire assortment of noises and gurgles and whistles and mumbling goes on for maybe ten more minutes.

All this plus frequent chattering during the day.

Cheb's ability is really amazing, and I'm thrilled to have him.  But it's taking some getting used to.

Memes of the Day

If you're a parrot slave and enjoy jokes and cartoons about parrots, have I got a blog for you!

I've been posting humorous memes related to parrots and other birds on Scritches.com for a time now. Not every day or on any kind of regular schedule -- just whenever the mood strikes.







Here are a few to get you started.

The Battle of the Seed

Cheb was on an all-seed diet when I adopted him. In fact, I suspect he's been on an all-seed diet all of his life.  We don't know exactly how old he is, but I think he's relatively young.

Getting him on Harrison's is one of my first goals with him.  In this picture is his usual mixed seed, which he is ignoring in favor of bits of millet spray.

He evidently doesn't recognize pellets as food. I've been crumbling up Nutriberries on top of his seed mix, and he seems to like those pretty well -- ignoring the pellets, of course.

Flash's basic diet is Harrison's, so I'm really hoping he'll show Cheb that they're okay to eat when quarantine is over.  I'm also hoping Flash will teach Cheb how to use the water bottle.

Cheb talks and whistles all day, and Flash shrieks and paces and worries because there's another cockatiel in the house he can't see.  I reassure him as best I can, but he isn't convinced.

Cheb's First Vet Exam

 




Cheb went in for this first well-bird exam yesterday.  He bit the technician several times and fought the veterinarian with all his might when she poked and prodded him.  I'll take him back Monday for blood work.













Here Cheb is surveying the exam room, including my cup of coffee, the veterinarian's glasses, and Cheb's new microchip documentation.

New Birdie

If I had unlimited time and money and

space I'd love to have four or five of each species of parrot.  

But I have neither the time or money or space, so I'm perfectly happy now with Charli and with Flash.

Until I saw this little cockatiel offered for adoption from a local dog and cat rescue.

His name is Cheb. He was found under a car three years ago by a woman who kept him until now. She's working full-time and going to school full time, which doesn't leave much time for Cheb.

He is extremely smart. He says "whatcha doin" and "pretty bird" and seems to be working on some new words.  He loves to whistle and sing, too.

Toast

I admit it -- I love toast. Hot from the toaster oven, smeared with real butter, topped with marmalade or jelly.

This morning I had cinnamon and sugar on my toast. On real bread from Great Harvest, not that squishy blob stuff from the chain grocery.

And I'll admit this, too -- today's post isn't really about toast.  Toast is just my way of easing into the act of writing something other than the endless comments on Facebook.

The third thing I'll admit is that I'm severely addicted to Facebook. I love the stream of colorful posts between snippy saying from people I've never met but consider to be "friends" because we've shared Facebook posts for years.

sigh . . . .

It's been a rough week.  No doubt about that.  My last aunt died a few weeks ago, then Liz Wilson died, and then I got the news that my last uncle (not related to my last aunt) was not expected to live much longer. I had a bad episode of depression, so bad in fact, that I was mean to my therapist. I'm sure he's used to far more abuse than someone like me can hand out, but I feel rotten about it. An apology is in order, and he'll get one at our next appointment.

I continue to job search, with no success.  I've written a couple of articles for which I won't get paid; more of a favor than anything else, plus it's good for my so-called discipline. Well, if I actually had any discipline, that is.


Had a quick chat with the tomato guy at the local farmers' market yesterday morning.  He told me what plants to order, which I will. I do this every year, without any success, but I love tomatoes and sooner or later they'll thrive!

I'm not 100% sure how I feel about the police not giving Miranda Rights to that guy who bombed Boston earlier this week. He's an American citizen, so he has those rights regardless, right? They've certainly got more than enough evidence to convict him.

L and I went to that restaurant out of town I've been wanting to visit.  Beautiful farm country, 30 minutes from my house, deserted roads, delicious food, good service. I had the country ham and swiss po-boy; L had the pulled pork sandwich. I ate too much dessert.

It's going to be a beautiful day. Tonight I'm joining Bev and some of her friends at Bella Notte to celebrate her birthday (which is tomorrow).

Liz

She could be maddening.

Stubborn.

A real pain in the ass.

But we loved her anyway.

(Saturday, April 13, 2013)

Nicholas

My sweet little Nicholas, who died on November 11, 2012.

He was always loud and opinionated, a firm believer that humans were put on earth to scritch his little head.

He had the softest feathers of any parrot I've been fortunate enough to touch.

We're still not quite sure what happened. I noticed his nares were red and he fell off his perch. I hospitalized him over night and his breathing got better. I brought him home, but could get enough nutrition down his stubborn little beak. Back to the hospital, where he was doing better and then died that night.  The necropsy suggested he died of aspiration.

All I know is that he's gone and I miss him terribly.

Flash seems to have blossomed though, now that Nicholas is gone.  He didn't spend much time being sad or looking for his cage mate, but he immediately began singing Nicholas songs -- as loud and pure and uncannily accurate as if it were Nicholas himself.

This is Normal?

I have no excuses, so I offer none.

Today promises temperatures that are not in the triple digit range, so I think I'll do some cooking for a change. Maybe a meatloaf or something. With real vegetables.

My book is finally published and out. It isn't as good as I wanted it to be, but when is something I write ever good enough? It's finished and I'm glad I wrote it. (You can order your very own copy by clicking here.)

The problem now is what to write next. I've been thinking about doing a book on how parrots change lives, but there are a lot of logistics to work out first.

The parrots in my life are, as usual, perfect. The Bobbsey Twins like to stand on the open door of their cage and just watch things. Or nap.  At least once a day one of them will become frightened of something real or imaginary, fly off and across the room, and land on top of the kitchen cabinets. This causes the other one to follow suit. Then come the contact and alarm calls (though they're standing next to one another) for me to come "rescue" them. Which I do and they fly back to their cage and stand on the open door.

Charli has developed some sort of obsession with her metal food bowl. I've used these bowls for years as well as small white bowls, but suddenly the metal bowl must be attacked, thrown around, and subdued. I've been trying to get it on video because it's so adorable how Charli hauls that bowl around, but once she sees the camera she drops the bowl and pretends everything is normal.

Right, like anything is normal in this household . . . .