Early one evening last April, after working in my garden most of the day, I returned my wheelbarrow to its place by the corner of my porch. I was startled by something green on a nearby chair. On closer inspection I realized it was a bird. I assumed it was someone's pet bird, because I had never seen a wild bird that color. It looked friendly enough, so I put my finger down, and it hopped right on like it knew me. I had no idea what kind of bird it was. My Mother had owned cockatoos, conures, cockatiels and parakeets, but his bird didn't look like any of them. I carried the bird on my finger up and down the street, half expecting someone to come running out to claim it. I stopped at a neighbor's house when I noticed her in the yard, and asked if she or anyone she knew had lost a bird. She said no, but fortunately she did know something about birds. She told me that it was a Quaker Parrot and that the first thing it needed was to have its wings clipped. I held the bird and she clipped away, the bird remained calmer than I felt. As she talked she mentioned that her husband had rescued a cockatiel from a neighbor's tree the day before, so we assumed that someone nearby had lost their pets.
When we left my neighbor's the bird was snuggled up to my chest and I realized that I was responsible for this bird until his owners could be found. I was totally clueless. I had never owned a bird, had never wanted to own a bird, after all I had three cats. It occurred to me that I needed something to put it in and the only thing I had that even resembled a bird cage, was a cat carrier. I put the bird in the carrier and he seemed content enough. My next problem was what to feed him. I had some wild bird food and he seemed to like it, so I figured we were set for the evening anyway.
My mission the next morning was to find someone with a cage that I could borrow, and learn more about how to care for my little visitor.
The vet's office where I take my cats was kind enough to give me the name of an avian vet where I might get the information I needed. I called, and they agreed to loan me a cage, and gave me some instructions on how to feed and care for my new friend. I got him settled into his cage with some proper food and told him that I would now try to find his owner and get him back home. I printed out some fliers and posted them around my neighborhood, at a nearby pet food store, the avian vet's office and the local Wal-Mart. I also called the Humane Society, Parrot-Rescue and a local breeder who sold Quakers. That done, I went about making my new feathered friend feel welcome.
It didn't take him long to start feeling at home. He said "thank you" when I gave him his food and then thrilled me by exclaiming that it was "yummy ,,, yummy ... gooooooooooood". I placed his cage on a table and the kitties would jump up to get a better look at this thing in the cage, that talked. I was forever saying, "Maggie...get down" or "Gizmo....get down". I couldn't believe it when I heard him say "here...kitty...kitty". At night I would cover him up and he would say "time to go to bed". Four days later when my husband returned from a business trip he was greeted with happy little chirps, and the little guy soon jumped right on his finger. You would have thought they were long lost buddies.
I received a few phone calls, but not from anyone who claimed to own him, mostly people offering to take him off my hands if no one claimed him. Many of them just wanted him for breeding. I took down phone numbers and told them I would get back to them if I decided to give him away. After a couple of weeks, I thought I should return the cage to the vet's office, and this meant that I was going to have to purchase a cage. I figured that when his owner's came to pick him up, I would sell it to them. My husband, meanwhile, continued to remind that we could not keep the bird, (was I crazy?), we had three cats!
I decided to call back a very nice lady who said that she had owned a Quaker that passed away, and she was looking to replace it. She really thought she might like to get a baby and raise it, but seemed willing to come over and check this bird out. When she arrived I was in my office, on the computer, with the bird, very contentedly, perched on my shoulder. We talked for awhile and it became obvious that this bird was not the least bit interested in going home with her. As she got up to leave, my husband came into the room and the bird, very willingly, went to him. She remarked that this bird seemed to have taken to both of us very well, which she thought was a real "blessing", because Quakers do not usually do this, and we should seriously consider keeping him. We discussed this option, and decided to give it a try.On my next trip to the pet food store, I purchased a copy of Mattie Sue Athan's book, "Guide to the Quaker Parrot." I found it very informative, but I couldn't quite grasp the concept of a bird being a "companion pet". Dogs were companions--they went places with you and you could play games with them, right? Birds lived in cages, at least that is what I had always thought. The book talked about interacting with your bird and having playtime outside of the cage. But, I also read about the dangers of having cats around a bird and I was paranoid of the cats getting within six feet of him. So for a while the bird stayed in his cage, a lot, unless I could corral all of the cats and get them to go out on the porch. this seemed to work for a while, but it wasn't long before the bird had had enough cage time, and wanted OUT, for longer periods of time. This required me to spend a lot more time with him. After all, if I left him alone while out of the cage, the cats might, God forbid, eat him!
I found the more time I spent with him, the more he talked. He was now saying "give me a kiss" making smacking noises, and actually pecking me on the mouth. He would call the cats, saying "here...kitty..kitty" and when they would come close he would tell them to "get down". He had learned this from hearing me tell them to get down from the table, when he first arrived. Eventually he learned their names, and I guess he thinks their names are "Maggie Get-Down" and "Gizmo-Get-Down", because to this day that is what he calls them. While vacuuming I accidently bumped his cage, I immediately shut it off and looked to be sure he was all right, and there he was clutching the side of his cage saying, "what are you doing?"....."what are you doing?" I couldn't help but laugh and he laughed right along with me. One day I asked him what he name was, just joking of course, but he said "Precious". So it is, no longer "the bird" (although my husband calls him Buford, cause he thinks its more macho). After revealing his name he began to claim his place as a full-fledged member of the family.
My husband, Jim, travels for his job during the week and comes home on weekends. When Precious hears him coming in the door he chirps excitedly and dances aroung on the top of his cage. Jim has to immediately get on an old shirt so Precious can climb on his shoulder to give kisses and nuzzle. Our neighbors have become accustomed to Jim with Precious on his shoulder taking an after dinner walk. Precious has learned how to hang on when he jogs a little. He has learned Jim's nickname and calls out to him "hey Woody" and I'm "mommy". He loves to play on the "puter" with us and suggles up with me every night before bedtime to get his head scritched. I've joined various lists concerned with Quakers and daily read all the messages to glean information on how to better serve His Highness Precious. He now eats a proper diet of pellets and assorted vegetables. I've given away all my Teflon cookware, I don't burn candles anymore and Jim and I have matching shirts with telltale poop stains and Quaker holes in them. I guess I still haven't totally grasped the "companion pet" concept, no, Precious is not our pet and he certainly doesn't live in a cage either. No, he's our "fid" (feathered kid), in every sense of the word. And, he has his own room, it just happens to have bars instead of walls. He accompanied us on a car trip to New York over Thanksgiving, and the cats went to the kennel. He really loves to travel in the car. Jim put a long wooden perch on the top of his travel cage, close to the bars so he can have a three-point stance with his feet and tail, he rides like a pro. You should see how excited he gets when the travel cage comes out. He is a joy, and we often look at one another and ask what did we ever do without him.
I believe that God brought this little creature into our lives to love us and for us to love him. I thank God every day for the privilege of being owned by a Quaker.