When my friend, Linda, left the SLO coast for ovarian cancer treatments, she asked me to "babysit" her lovebirds, also known as small hook-bills. Naturally, I said I would , "No worries, dear friend. I'm in this for the duration." I mean really, I thought, how much effort could it take to care for a few pocket-sized parrots?
Did I mention Linda's a bird breeder? Shortly after I agreed to the "babysitting" assignment, a couple dozen cages arrived at my mountain cabin. Nearly sixty (yes 60) boisterous birds competed for the highest pitch and loudest volume awards. Needless to say, my charges, although just small birds, generated a big change in my home.
Now you should know I've always been more of a horsey slash outdoorsy type than the Tweety type. I never thought of myself as a "bird person," but I guess I didn't know myself as well as I thought I did.
When I first acquired Linda's birds, their cages were stacked three high in my living room — which I'm willing to bet any lovebird owner can imagine, made a huge mess of seeds and shredded paper on the floor. Not only that, it took quite a bit of time, every morning, to refresh and clean all of their food dishes and waters. Plus, it was bumming me out to see these beautiful birds, winged creatures that were meant to fly, sitting around all day, every day, on a perch in a barred box. It wasn't long before I was thinking there must be a better way to care for them.
Although most of the birds came as a Mister and Missus pair, some cages housed three to five birds. All were provided swings, bells, paper, fresh mountain spring water, and quality small hook-bill feed each day . Yet my heart told me the freedom to fly was the missing component to their ultimate happiness. The more I thought about it the more I wanted to liberate them from their restrictive lives. Caged animals twist and torture my heart. This is why I infrequently allow myself to enter animal shelters and never go to zoos.
Perhaps my new house guests, still jailbirds swiping their hook-bills back and forth over the bars, were perfectly content with a couple square feet to move around in, but to me it was so sad to see them sit day after day, I couldn't allow it any longer. But, what could I do? I couldn't just let them loose in my home sweet home, decorated with a yummy collection of braided rawhide cowgirl gear!
Thankfully, a handy and helpful neighbor — who out of the goodness of his heart and for a couple Costco sized bottles of Crown Royal — constructed a flight cage inside my mudroom. My plan, with Linda's blessing, was to put all the birds that got along into the room. That left only two pairs in individual cages. These pairs were eventually let loose as well, and as it turned out, they integrated without incident.
Once released into what I dubbed as Lovebird Liberty Lodge, the majority of Linda's birds really started to develop and exhibit their personalities. I filled their room with floor to ceiling madrone branches and then the fun really began. Like kids on jungle gyms the birds swung, hung, spun, hopped, and screeched for joy. I'm not really sure who enjoyed it more, them or me. We all liked it so much I decided they would really bloom with even more space. Yet again, my neighbor came over with his tools and nailed up another five feet wide by eight feet long by eight feet high recreation area.
Since taking in Linda's flock, I've learned many people with birds have them to play with. They enjoy the, "step up, step down, turn yourself around," stuff. Of course, I get the benefits of having trained and tamed birds. However, it doesn't always work out that way. Sometimes, as with this case, the birds are mature, have been handled minimally because of human time and health issues, consequently, not one of these five dozen birds is trained to step up.
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Can you hear me knocking on wood when I write I haven't had an occasion to seek veterinary services since the birds moved in? Believe me, I'm lucky I know. I have taken my butterfly-like net to swoop up a few pairs that moved to new homes. I thought the process went fairly well, having done it in the darkness before dawn. It caused very little commotion. Other than that, I don't traumatize the birds by trying to catch them. One wrong move in their room during the day and it sounds like the spontaneous and uproarious applause of an audience who just watched a performance of Riverdance.
The point is, despite their lack of education, these lovebirds are marvelous pets. Besides being inquisitive, entertaining, and relatively low maintenance, they are colorful and lively embellishments that create an enchanting environment.
Linda's lovebirds may not have been taught to do tricks, but they aren't bird brains. Hey, they're smart enough to have trained me. Whenever the food dish is low they send Verda, the matriarch, to be their messenger. When I walk by the flight cage Verda swoops over to me, right at eye level, clings to the wire, flaps her wings, and chirps at me. I obediently open up the food container, fill the scoop, and enter their room.
As I hold the scoop out in front of me Verda takes center seat and selects her favorite flavor of seeds. Several friends join her, while others wait their turn on my arms, chest, and head. A mustard colored bird I call Dijon likes to lick my arm or use strands of my hair to rappel down my face to get to the food. It's quite delightful to have them trust me that much.
Obviously, I'm not a bird expert, far from it, but isn't it an elementary observation to notice whether those in your care are cheerful or depressed? Linda's birds are obviously joyful birds. I can attest to the fact that busy birds are happy birds. Every day I make sure, they have many options to stay active throughout the day. Swinging on cotton ropes, chewing on madrone leaves and bark, pulling back and forth on coveted stalks of alfalfa, swinging from and shredding birdie piñatas, giving and getting neck nuzzles are just a few of their favored activities.
The amusement factor is big but I'd go so far to say it's very therapeutic to watch these colorful companions interact with one another. When I take a fresh madrone branch into the aviary, the birds hop right on and chew it to bits, they have so much fun, and that feels good.
Many mesmerized hours I've spent peeping at their gymnastics, tug of wars, and public displays of affection (they have no shame). I especially find it endearing to see the females tuck alfalfa stems and birdie piñata pieces into their tail feathers as they gather nesting material. That and a sleepy bird yawning on his perch – oh, my gosh that round little tongue is so cute.
Bottom line – I admit it, I'm hooked on these little hook-bills. Their wishes are my commands.
Note: After two years of intense cancer combat duty, several major surgeries including the removal of cancer that had spread to her brain, Linda's fight is over. Sadly, at the conclusion of writing this story, Linda took her last breath in her husband's arms, son, and daughter by her side.
"No worries, dear friend. I'm in this for the duration."
