Pickles The Parrot: A Humorous Look At Life With An African Grey (6 page)

Our yard is a jungle with trees, shrubs,
vegetable garden and even a couple of piles of discarded tree
prunings. We continue piling on to them as this makes great bird
habitat, providing shelter, nesting and foraging. There are little
benches or seats tucked into sheltered areas and a trail system is
slowly developing as foliage grows and we add more trees or
shrubs.

We stopped using poisons in our yard about 12
years ago. The birds thank us, and so do the dandelions. To be
perfectly honest, I like dandelions and I think they got a bad rep
as a weed. We’ve found that most weeds have beneficial properties,
from medicinal to edible so we don’t sweat it—we use what we grow,
or it’s put in the trusty composter.

I don’t think our neighbors are pleased with
us. We let our grass grow, we have dandelions, I think we play our
music too loud, they’re leery of the bat boxes and they assume our
pond breeds mosquitoes. We’ve tried to tell them, if you let your
grass grow, you don’t have to water so much and it will eventually
choke out the dandelions. Bats are good. Contrary to popular
belief, they don’t attack hair and they eat the mosquitoes. The
fish are the best thing to happen to the neighborhood because the
water attracts the little blood suckers, providing meals for the
fish. The mosquitoes can’t breed in the pond because it’s too deep
and too fast. As for the loud music, well, we keep working on
that.

We spent a lot of time camping and fishing
most of our lives but after spending so much time watching our
fish, it’s difficult for us now. In the early days of fishing, we
killed them for food. I’m not comfortable killing anything but it’s
either that, or buy it in a can. A fish is going to die, one way or
another when I’m in the mood to eat fish. In later years, we became
catch & release fishermen as conservation started to demand. I
was never quite comfortable with that, it just didn’t see right to
go and stress a fish out for our own pleasure. Now, after getting
to know our fish, we realize that they possess little personalities
and that they’re not just some dumb creatures beneath the sea. We
will continue to fish, but rarely, and we seek other species of
fish for table fare.

We rarely feel the need to go camping and
wildlife watching because we have just as much nature in our own
back yard. Sometimes we ‘pretend fish’. We both pick a fly that’s
landed on the water and see whose is eaten first. It’s just as fun
as real fishing; the only difference is that the fly is not
attached to the end of a line.

The yard and pond is a constant source of
entertainment and it illustrates the importance of every single
creature, and the fact that they all have personalities,
intelligence and adventurous lives. There was a blue dragonfly that
came to visit the pond every day for a few weeks, hovering or
flitting around the pond, catching midges that were hatching from
the water. One day, a green dragonfly appeared and you could
literally see the excitement from both of them upon discovering
each other. The entered into a lovely, graceful aerial dance, then
a game of tag and at one point one of them managed to hide behind
the reeds. I watched him hover in one spot, only turning slightly
now and then to watch the other through the reed blades. After a
minute or so, the other one thought to come around the plant and
the moment she discovered him, they both danced in the air with
glee. Imagine, bugs playing hide-and-go-seek!

Fish themselves are reduced to a commodity
and we just see them as a massive lump in a seine net or food in a
can but each fish had an adventurous life before that. They also
have friends. The other day, I watched one of our trout holding
next to a plant in the shallows while he let 3 different fish into
the area, to swim, hunt and even nudge him but the minute one
particular fish attempted to swim by; he dashed after him and
refused to let him in the area. They obviously make distinctions
between friends and foes.

The yard is our sanctuary and it’s a
wonderful distraction for Pickles. It is peaceful, yet alive.
Because we spend all our time out there, all visitors are dragged
out with us. So, when my mom came to visit one spring, we all spent
a lot of time in the yard.

Her grandchildren call my mother, who by now
is Pickles’ biggest fan, “Nana” but Pickles prefers to call her
“Nana Banana”. She has a hard time concentrating on anything else
but Pickles while she’s here and especially loves it when Pickles
is chatting to invisible characters in his Fun Factory. This is a
plastic globe that hangs from the ceiling with holes in the side
for climbing in and out. She likes to relax and read while here but
I’m sure she only succeeds in reading the same page over and over
because mostly I see her looking over the top of her book at
Pickles.

Pickles likes my mom but back then they
didn’t get too close ever since she showed up one time in her coat
of many colors—mostly reds. It was “scary” as Pickles would tell
you, and for while he was a little leery of getting too close to
Mom in case that coat may still be hidden upon her person. Mom
sometimes animates with her arms and hands while telling a story,
so that too can be “scary” when you’re half asleep and sitting on
the knee of the animator. Regardless, he’s always happy to see her
and doesn’t hesitate to chat it up with her. She even started to
call before her visits, to discuss her wardrobe…“Does Pickles like
orange? Can I wear my flowered pajamas? What about hats?” Etc.

Mom wrote a cute poem in Pickles’ Christmas
card one year, entitled The Pickles Bird’s Christmas Present…

What a nice song” you could hear people
say,

From the first thing Christmas morning, til
the end of the day.

And the Pickles Bird sat on the bells and the
horns

And he bobblebird danced all Christmas
morn.

“
See the present! Oh my! Must we wait to
begin it?”

Cause he knew it was his—whatever was in
it.

So the Pickles Bird pulled and the Pickles
Bird tugged

Til he tipped over backwards and fell on the
rug.

He pulled and he pushed and he blonked and he
bleaked.

He picked at the billball and fell on his
beak.

He scuffled and scorted. He screed and he
skried

And suddenly quick as a Whifflepuff’s
cry,

Out fell the prize. My, My, and Oh My!

And what was this wonderful, wonderful
thing?

A Sondercubs triss or a Whipnubbers
bling?

A Whirlykaboodle brings anyone joy.

No! A Special Kermuffly Pickles Bird
Toy
.

Move over Dr. Seuss.

It’s a good thing my mother is not a prude.
Right off the bat, we were throwing little whiffle balls to Pickles
on the back of the couch and as he snagged one in the air with his
talon, it caused him to flip over on his back, wedging him against
the wall. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed as he struggled to right himself.
That was the very first time he had uttered these words and
thankfully, he seldom repeats it.

Pickles loves to fool my mom by ringing the
phone and she falls for it most times. If she doesn’t, he calls out
“Answer the damn bird!”

We celebrated my mom’s birthday while she was
here and even though the word ‘party’ was never mentioned, Pickles
somehow senses the days we plan to have a couple of drinks and play
music. Perhaps it’s because he sees us making ice. He joins in with
the sound of tinkling ice cubes, the snap of the pop can being
opened and the fizzling of the soda—which he calls “juice”. Then
Pickles suggests the perfect place for the party…

“Anybody in the aviary? Wanna party? Wanna
party in the aviary? Want music in the aviary? Let’s go party in
the aviary! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

The three of us agree, so we made Pina
Coladas, put on Pickles favorite fiddle music and packed him out to
the yard while he showed his appreciation with “Woo Hoo! What a
good song! Sing a song with your beak!”

Neil grabbed the hose to water the herbs and
inadvertently sprayed Pickles. This was NOT a part of the deal and
he ran along his perches, flapping his wings angrily, hollering “Uh
oh. Uh oh. Uh oh. Stop it! Just stop it! Stop it brat!” Neil
stopped and apologized but Pickles’ good mood was ruined…until a
neighbor who’d never met Pickles spotted us and came over to chat
with him. A new victim caused Pickles to snap out of his snit and
when the fellow said, “Well now, what do we have in here?” Pickles
answered…

“Freshwater rat baby!”

During this period, Pickles’ favorite word
was ‘rat’ and he had become quite fond of adding ‘ary’ to his
words.

“Hello rat baby! Want some rat beans? Want
some rat poop? Poop on the rats. Go poop. Poop in the rat aviary
for a snack. Wanna go in the aviary? Want some snackery in the
aviary? Wanna bananary in the aviary? There’s a buggery in the
aviary! Hafta poopery in the aviary? Huh?”

“rrrrrrrrats”

The neighbor looked at us, looked at Pickles
and back at us.

“I don’t know this bird.” I said. “He
wandered in the yard one day, we fed him and now he won’t go
away.”

Chapter 4

Not Always Fun & Games

Birds poop, a lot. No getting around it. If
you own a bird, it’s something you learn to put up with. In the
wild, they poop to get rid of the extra baggage for fast take-off,
flight and safety. Over time, Pickles got pretty good about holding
it and not just releasing his bombs all helter skelter but there
were many episodes early on. Poop decorated floors, furniture and
clothing. I don’t know how many times I’ve been out in public only
to return home and discover a nice gooey blob on my arm, shoulder
or chest that I hadn’t noticed before I left the house. Nobody ever
says anything. They can’t help but see it but you’re not given the
chance to explain—no, I didn’t just hork all over myself.

Pickles turned out to be a very finicky eater
so we were always looking for new and innovative ways to get him to
eat the things that were good for him. Like most parrots, he showed
his displeasure by throwing food. We didn’t always have the time to
clean up after him so his cage, the walls and the floor were
sometimes mottled with dried up scraps of food. He thought nothing
of flinging undesired food in our faces and stomping around on the
top of his cage, throwing a temper tantrum.

I learned to make birdy breads. They are sort
of like carrot cake and I add different items of fruits and
vegetables to each one so that he gets the proper vitamins and
nutrients he requires. It’s very time consuming between baking them
and cutting them up in rows of little squares, wrapping with saran
wrap, labeling then freezing. But Pickles loves them and he gets a
square each night for supper. Over time, he got use to the taste of
most fruits and veggies and will sometimes eat them fresh now, but
not much. His favorites are bananas, grapes, pomegranate, carrots,
potatoes and pepper seeds. Breakfast is fresh peas or corn and
during the day he gets pellets, seeds and nuts. He’s a healthy,
active bird so I guess we’re doing something right.

Fortunately, we live in an arid area of the
BC Interior and have no problem with mold or mildew. We can leave
fruits or vegetables in Pickles’ bowl for longer periods of time
than someone living in a humid climate—everything just sort of
dries up, like sun drying a tomato. We don’t have to worry about
mold on his cage however, things can dry to a dust and cause
respiratory problems.

On the other hand, humidity would be good for
Pickles because he hates to bathe and he’s a dirty, dirty little
birdie. He freaks out if we use a spray bottle and mostly he just
gets his feet and beak wet on the odd occasion that he takes a bath
in a bowl. The only humidity he gets, is from taking showers with
Neil. He likes to perch on the shower rod and watch but doesn’t
like to be splashed. Sometimes we’ll bend over the kitchen sink and
Pickles will run up and down our arms to get a little wet under the
tap.

At some point, it became difficult to keep
Pickles aloft. He was insisting on climbing down his cage to
explore, or to be with us. Often, he was almost stepped on when he
suddenly appeared at our feet while we were off doing something. It
was becoming dangerous in the shop with customers walking around
and it seemed there was no way to make him stay put.

I won’t go into many details or the
complications of this and other behavioral problems but what it
boiled down to was finding the PBAS (Parrot Behavior Analysis
Solutions) Group where they pair you with someone to help and
interact with you on a forum or through email. They teach Positive
Reinforcement which has become a way of life for us with Pickles.
Pickles is never punished, parrots don’t understand punishment, it
just causes dislike, distrust or fear. He is rewarded for good
behavior and bad behavior is ignored. All it takes is a little
creative thinking to make a parrot feel that he is in control, and
reinforcers such as food or toys are used as encouragement.

PBAS taught us the importance of enrichment
and foraging so Neil got busy making play stands for Pickles. He
started by building a wooden base with 4-inch lip all the way
around, which gave Pickles something to sit on, and attached legs
like you find on a computer chair in the center so that Pickles
couldn’t reach and climb down. To the base, he attached a few thick
branches with thinner branches shooting off the main branch,
providing him a variety of perches and climbing material. From
these, we hung various toys. Neil built several stands so that
Pickles would have an area in each room to hang out on while we did
dishes or ate dinner etc. Each one was different and he was happy
to be moved from room to room to be with us. The main play stand
was placed next to Pickles’ cage in the livingroom so that he had
access to it whenever he wanted.