Pickles The Parrot: A Humorous Look At Life With An African Grey by Georgi Abbott

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