Pickles The Parrot Returns: My Continued Adventures with a Bird Brain (16 page)

“
I had my boings and
ropes hanging between the diningroom and kitchen and set up a
road block.  Nobody was allowed into the diningroom without
getting attacked in the head.  When mom tried to go through, I
started to attack but at the last moment, I realized she had the
proper permits in order.  Sesame Snaps.”

“
The last think I want
to do, is bite my mom.  But it's still on the
list.”

“
I've been sitting still,
pushing out my belly, pretending I'm Buddah and hoping my mommy
will rub my belly.  It's supposed to be good luck - let's see
if she falls for it.  C'mon, don't be ascared, rub my
belly.”

“
It takes a big man to
cry.  But it only takes a little bird to make him do
it.”

“
Everyone's got to believe
in something. I believe I'll draw blood today.  I will give
the donor a cookie in exchange.”

Pickles has a bit of a rough beak. He
doesn’t seem to know his own strength and when he gets excited
while playing, he can get a little carried away and nip us a little
hard. He seems to get the most excited and nippy around me these
days but he’ll get Neil too. He loves to hang upside down on your
hand and will flip himself over on his own but then he’ll get so
excited that he’ll start biting your finger. Not really hard, but
hard enough to pinch. He doesn’t always bite but you never know
when it’s going to happen so watching his body language is
imperative.

He loves it when we make forts out of
blankets on the bed or couch and usually he just lays on his belly,
fluffs up and coos or hoots like an owl but with me, he’ll try to
nip the hand that’s holding the blanket up. Daddy can stick his
hand inside to pet and scratch Pickles but not me – he will bite
for sure. I just need to work on that.

Talking on the phone really gets his goat. At
first, it’s fun for him. He pretends he’s talking too and even
lifts his talon to his ear, copying our motion of holding the
receiver to our ears, and has his own conversation with the
intermittent mechanical voices he does because that’s what it
sounds like when someone on the other end of the phone is talking.
But after he says “Bye-bye, beep” and hangs up, we’re supposed to
too and if we don’t, his squawking becomes very loud and annoying.
If he’s in jumping range, he will attack the phone or a hand. If we
pick him up absent-mindedly while engrossed in conversation, he
will step up and bite extremely hard – hard enough to take chunks
of skin and/or cause nerve damage. During all the years we’ve had
him, this is when we’ve been bit the hardest. Pickles doesn’t often
bite really hard and the phone has caused almost all of the most
painful bites.

I know to keep a safe distance when I’m on
the phone but Neil sometimes makes the mistake of trying to appease
him so he’s received the worst of the bites. Sometimes it’s hard to
avoid it because he will flap or fly down to get our attention and
it’s hard to talk on the phone and keep an eye on him at the same
time. Even if we set the phone down for a minute, he’s already in
attack mode and he knows when we pick him up he’s going to be set
down and ignored, and this is unacceptable to him.

One time, I was in the middle of an
important, complicated conversation, which required my full
attention. In hindsight, I should have moved to the computer room
or something but I didn’t. Pickles got louder and louder and
eventually the guy I was speaking to commented about the noise. “It
sounds like you have a parrot – I have one too. Aren’t they great?”
so we had a short conversation about how intelligent and wonderful
they are. “My bird’s not noisy at all.” he informed me. “Neither is
mine,” I said – which was met with silence. “Well, except for when
I’m on the phone” I conceded. Stupid bird, making me look like a
fool.

We went back to talking business and Pickles
suddenly flew to my shoulder and lunged for the phone antenna that
was sticking out from under my, at that time, long hair. A
tug-a-war ensued and I managed to rescue it from his beak but now
he was tangled in my hair and mad as hell. I’m trying to stay cool
while politely listening to this guy - and not wanting to let on
what was happening - but afraid I’m going to lose an ear or eyeball
and I can’t get Pickles out of my hair with only one hand.

I go to my knees and calmly and quietly lay
on the ground, hoping this will encourage Pickles to settle down
and try to walk out of my hair but he’s wrapped up pretty good. I
try to untangle him with my free hand but he’s chowing down on any
skin that comes near him and I’m in pain. Neeka notices the
commotion and wants to join in the fun so he jumps on my belly and
I don’t have a third hand to push him off. Suddenly, Pickles grabs
hold of the fleshy, outer side of my hand and starts to grind and I
scream – directly into the phone receiver. “OW – OW – OW – OW!!!! –
HANG ON!!” I shouted as I threw down the phone and tore Pickles,
kicking and screaming, from my hair.

I planted Pickles on the floor, shooed the
dog of my belly, got to my feet and wrapped a tea towel around my
bleeding hand, took a deep breath and went back to the phone.
“Hello?” I said. “You okay?” he asked. “Um, yeah. I, uh, just
spilled hot coffee on myself” I lied - with Pickles now attacking
my foot and chasing me around the room, trailing long hair attached
to his talons. I wasn’t about to explain it to him, didn’t want him
thinking I had a psychotic parrot, and didn’t want him imagining me
laying on the floor fighting a bird in my hair and a dog on my
belly while talking into a phone.

We have to be very careful if Pickles is
stuck, scared or in pain. I think most birds are like this. It’s
frustrating because all you want to do is help them but they don’t
understand so they lash out at you. As we’re trying to help
Pickles, he will give us serious bites. If he has hurt himself by
falling, he will hurt us immediately after if we are close.

So yeah, Pickles bites sometimes. The biting
isn’t usually bad or frequent, but it does happen. We can usually
anticipate the bite and his body language is always a good
indicator, but only if we’re paying attention. Sometimes, before
biting, Pickles will announce “No bite!” just before he goes for
the jugular, as a warning to back off or give him what he wants. If
we get bit, it’s always our own fault.

“
I'm afraid of a nail
file.  Okay, sounds stupid right?  I don't know why I
am.  Maybe cuz it's rough and it could scrape me.  Maybe
cuz it's full of fingernail germs.  Maybe it's the
color.  I dunno. Oh, did I mention this is a poison nail
file? Maybe that’s the reason.”

“
I was sitting in my cage,
under covers, minding my own business and contemplating life when
suddenly mommy appeared at the back of my cage and scared
the hell out of me!  After I finished bouncing off the
cage walls from fright, she said she was sorry. 
Sorry???  She's SORRY??!!  Well, let's just see how
sorry she is after she cleans up all the crap she scared out of
me.”

“
I'm your average weird
African Grey. Sometimes I imagine I hear things and it scares me.
Sometimes I imagine I see things and it scares me. Sometimes I have
a bunch of imaginary friends but they won't play with me, they'll
only play with each other. So then I have to imagine they all fall
down a well.”

“
My mom thinks it's weird
that when I walk around on the floor, that it doesn't bother me
that everybody is so tall and towering over me.  She thinks it
should be scary for me but it's not.  I'm not ascared of tall
people, only short spiders.”

“
Man oh man oh man. 
Mommy turned the loud stove fan on when I was least expecting
it.  I got so scared and confused, I lifted off and straight
into the stove hood.  I almost got sucked clear to Kingdom
Come!”

“
Sometimes I can't
distinguish the difference between dreams & reality. 
They're no help when I ask them & dreams are particularly good
liars.  Sometimes reality's pretty good though if you stick a
feather quill up your nose cuz it will say "Ouch, why'd ya do
THAT?" and then I know I’m awake & in reality.  But if you
do that to dreams, they just run away scared & leave you
in painful reality & it's like, did I just wake myself up
or was I already awake?  So, pain is not a good
determination.  For me anyway.”

“
Never wear anything that
panics the bird.”

“
I was sitting on my hanging
wreath & mom walked up with an open box so I jumped in to hitch
a ride. She took me to the base of my playstand where I jumped out
& she turned the box upside down. It had a cut-out opening for
me to go inside but that box, once upside down suddenly became very
scary. Mom put some nuts inside and now I’m ascared for them but I
can't save them - it's every man for himself!”

“
Mom won't let me play with
her duct tape.  She says I’ll get my feet stuck to it like a
bug on a fly strip. I thought - cool, like a snowboard. 
That's not so scary.”

Before we ever got Pickles, we knew that
African Greys could develop phobias. We got Pickles from a very
good breeder and they had done an excellent job at introducing him
to new foods, toys and situations so Pickles was basically fearless
in the beginning. We kept it up as best we could by offering new
items and taking him new places as much as possible. Taking him to
work in the fly shop was great for him because he never knew what
would happen there and he learned to take everything in stride. But
over the years, he has developed a few phobias because it’s
impossible to think of everything that might be scary in the
beginning and after awhile, right out of the blue, something is
suddenly scary to him.

In the beginning, we were convinced that
Pickles would be different, that he would remain a fearless Grey;
and while I’m sure there are some out there, I think it’s fair to
say that it’s practically impossible to expect a Grey not to
develop phobias.

All in all, Pickles is still pretty good
about being introduced to something new and he will tell you if
something scares him by saying “Scary” or “That’s scary”. If we’re
showing him a new toy, we watch his body language for the slightest
indication of discomfort and move the item to a safe area outside
of his comfort zone. We never force the matter, as some ‘experts’
have advised, and don’t believe in ‘flooding’ which is exposing a
person or animal to a fearful item or situation and keeping them
next to it in a state of anxiety until the fear subsides. Instead,
a new toy would be moved across the room where Pickles can see it
but not be stressed from it and slowly, within a matter of hours or
days, move it closer to him until he takes an interest in it.

It works to gradually get Pickles use to
something but what we’ve found works best, is to pretend it’s ours
and that he shouldn’t have it. We’ll play with it until he’s
anxious to have it himself while making it his own choice.

Of course, that doesn’t help him with his
fear of feathers. Okay, I don’t think he’s really afraid of his own
feathers but you’d think they were of a murderous variety and out
to get him from the blood curdling screams he emits if one is
floating in the air around him. I’m not sure if those downy
feathers make him mad or if it’s just an excuse to act out in mock
fear but the screaming, violent wing flapping and running causes
quite the commotion – especially since the wind from his flapping
wings manages to suck the feathers right back at him rather than
blow them away. Sometimes he attacks them and kills them with his
beak but when he tries to spit them out, they stick like magnets as
he tries to rip them off with his talons. Then they stick to his
talons, of course, so the attack and destroy tactic isn’t always
successful.

I can’t resist picking up a loose feather,
placing it in my palm then blowing it in his direction just to
watch his reaction. One time I did this when he least expected it
while he was perched on his playstand and as the feather floated
toward his feet, he rose straight up in the air, hovering like a
little helicopter to escape it as the turbulence from his wings
sucked it up toward him. Pickles did frenzied circles, in one tight
spot, trying to avoid it until the feather managed to glom on to
his toe, sending Pickles flying across the room to get away from
it.

During flight, he managed to loosen it but
after banking and heading back to the playstand, he flew through
the feather’s airspace, affording feather attachment once again but
this time, right between the eyes. I swear he was cross-eyed as he
flew by my head, banked and returned to land and tangle himself in
my hair.
Not this again
, I thought, not
without a bit of panic.
What is he? Part bat??
What have I done???
I guess I deserved whatever was coming
to me but as it turned out, Pickles slid easily through my hair as
I held his body in my hands and pulled him free. As I set him on
his stand, he spit “POTATO!!” with urgent venom and I figured
that’s his demand for all the trouble I caused, so I obliged to
please him.

The feather had disappeared during all the
fuss but I found it in my hair later. Once again, I couldn’t
resist. I blew the freshly discovered feather in his direction but
this time he calmly snatched it from the air, balled it up in his
mouth and sat chewing it like gum for the next hour. Sweet
revenge.

Then there’s the feather duster – a long, hot
pink, evil duster for cleaning up all his white dander. He’s afraid
of it and will either run away if he sees us with it, or scream at
it while trying to grab and kill it. We don’t tease him with it and
we try to keep it away from him so as not to upset him. He’s okay
with it as long as it’s across the room and away from him and if
I’m dusting around his area, I move him to another spot while I do
it.