My husband Rod loves birds. He tends to the wild birds in our yard with the same devotion that I take care of the horses. His effort is rewarded with an abundance of Juncos, Chickadees, and Bluebirds to name just a few. When Rod turned forty we celebrated by acquiring a hybrid Cockatoo named Casey. What this large white parrot taught us was a whole lot more than we could teach her. Aside from conquering the sofa with military efficiency, she screamed and chatted the day away from her kingdom where she ruled in our living room. In today's excerpt from Finding My Way to Moose River Farm, Casey takes control of the air waves too.
Casey Bird
Casey used her spine tingling scream
to attract our attention at the most inconvenient times. At dawn’s earliest light her day officially
began. During the summer that heart
stopping scream startled us out of our slumber long before we needed to be awake. The only way to console her was to get up and
join her in the living room where she immediately quieted down.
After a long day alone in the house
she screamed for attention from the moment we arrived home. One day Rod ignored her tantrum while tending
to urgent computer business upstairs in our office. Tired of screaming to
no avail, Casey hopped off of her couch and out of her territory. Sensing that Rod was on the second floor, she
climbed the stairs with great stealth, and then continued her clandestine mission
down the hall. Next, she stood soldier
still at the doorway, waiting until her presence surprised him at his
desk. Once he discovered her there,
(with a bit of a startle), she bobbed her body to and fro with the satisfaction
of a football player who had just scored a touchdown. Of course he immediately picked her up to cuddle her, thus rewarding her for her effort!
Another time, Casey was suspiciously
quiet downstairs while Rod was watching his daily stock reports on a small TV
in the office. The TV was controlled by
whatever channel was tuned in on the downstairs TV. Suddenly, the small TV began changing
channels rapidly on its own like a scene from a science fiction movie. Rod ran down to investigate the
situation and discovered that Casey had found the remote. She was perched on her swing,
holding it dexterously with one foot while her beak was busy gnawing off the
little rubber buttons that changed the channel!
"Bad, Bad, Bird, Bird Girl."
"Bad, Bad, Bird, Bird Girl."
Casey called herself a "Bird Bird Bird Bird Girl"!
Your description of each event is so real - I felt like I was right there watching Caseys antics, (and even her ear piercing screams!! Ouch!)
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