This place is for the birds

You know, I'm not even sure I remember exactly how the zoo got birds in the first place.  It seems like forever that we've had at least five or six seriously noisy birds around.  For a while we even had an African Grey who used to live in our family room and never failed to scare the holy hell out of me when I came home from work late at night, house dark, only to hear a little old man in the corner say "Do you want a drink of water?"  She could also exactly reproduce the sound of the microwave beeping which meant I got plenty of exercise running into the kitchen to see which of the daughters might be about to blow up the house by microwaving metal or something.  And, she used to love to tease the dog by calling her...

Anyway,  I think the first bird came to live here because it was donated/rescued (you would be amazed how many animals come to us that way) around the same time that the zookeeper got picked up on the list of vendors for the state library programs.  Every year our state libraries choose a theme for the summer reading program, and it just so happened that year the theme was something to do with pirates.  So the zookeeper shaved his head, stuck a gold hoop in his ear, and took his new buddy Hawk (along with a bunch of other animals) to just about every library in a 200 mile radius.

Me:  "You look like Mr. Clean."

Him:  "Should I tie a bandanna around my head?"

Me:  "Only if you want to round out the gay Mr. Clean image with a little butchness.  Just sayin'."

Some people look fabulous bald.  The zookeeper is not one of them.

Hawk was an Amazon Green parrot, and the extent of his verbal repertoire seemed to be limited to "What're ya doin'?" and "Pretty bird!"  Though I know for a fact that bird could say "fuck" but thankfully it was garbled.  Otherwise he probably wouldn't have be good in front of kiddies.

He lived in a pretty big iron cage in the living room (this was in the days before the barn, excuse me, facility, was fully pimped out to house the zoo animals) because the living room has a hardwood floor and he was a real pain in the ass about throwing his food around.  Plus, when we opened the cage door so he could come out and get a little more exercise, he without fail would stick out his tail feathers for maximum distance and shit all over the floor.  Easier to clean that mess off wood than out of carpet.  All in all, he wasn't too bad to have around, and mostly only screamed when he got nervous or wound up.

Until, that is, we got this guy.

Say hello to Syd the moluccan cockatoo.  Here's a fun fact you may not have known:  These are the second loudest (in terms of decibels) birds on the planet.  Ever had a spike driven through your ear into your brain?  When he gets going, that's about what it sounds/feels like. Times four.  Syd loves people, and especially loves attention.  And he has the intelligence of  a three year old...along with the attention span.  And like a three year old, he absolutely demands that you pay attention to him at all times.  Which means that if he can see you, you had better fricking be watching or petting or otherwise humoring him...or he will scream.  If he can hear you in another room, he will scream.  If it's raining, he'll scream.  It the sun is out he'll scream.  If he's bored, or hungry, or lonely or just being a dick, he'll scream.  And scream, and scream.  And just when you think he's stopped, he'll scream again.

Syd was adopted/given to the zoo, and when he got here we parked his iron cage in the foyer, so Hawk couldn't see him and get all wound up.  Which worked for about five minutes, when the zookeeper walked away from Syd, Syd screamed, and Hawk went ballistic.

Syd:  "<Ear piercing scream!> Pretty biiiirrrrd!"

Hawk:  "<something garbled that sounded an awful lot like 'what the fuck?'> WAH, WHAT'RE YA DOIN'?"

Syd:  "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHEEEEE.  EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHEEEEEEE.  EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEE!!!"

All of which promptly scared the piss out of our youngest, who was about six months old at the time and had (ok, has) a set of lungs of her own.  I've got Hawk shrieking and flapping his wings, freaking out and screaming "WHAT'RE YOU DOIN'?  WHAT'RE YOU DOIN'????" Syd  screaming so loud you could hear him four or five towns over, and my bug wailing and howling as if her hair is on fire and she's being skinned alive...and that last bit is what prompted the neighbors to call us, luckily before they called the police, EMT's, fire department and anyone else they could think of in fear that we had both lost our minds and were killing the kids for real.

Oh hell no are we keeping this cage location/set up, except the zookeeper was mysteriously absent for the scream fests for about a week (secret tunnels?  I swear there are, since the now-you-see-him-where-the-hell-did-he-go zookeeper has a way of disappearing at the most in-convenient of times)and it took that long of my bitchpissmoaningcomplaining before he was actually present for an actual event.  Funny how that works, isn't it?  I say this has to stop, nothing happens.  He hears it and suddenly we are relocating bird cages...hmmmm.

Thankfully, we have awesome neighbors, who (after doing a head count) believed that the daughters were alive and well and not being boiled in oil and then fed to the giant snakes or the alligators and therefore didn't call the constabulary (the same wonderful neighbors who can be counted on to help search for renegade tortoises and return them home if we are away) and who eventually even got used to the shrieks and screams of Syd, as well as various other parrots that have come and gone, or come and stayed.  Oddly enough, it's the arctic foxes that keep the neighbors awake the most...but that's another story for a different day.

Meanwhile, 7 years later Syd is still here.  And since part of what we do here at the facility/residence/frickingloonyassylum/wildlife center is try to give these animal ambassadors not only a good home but an experience as close as they can get to real is park them outside whenever possible.....

Late August, still warm but not hot enough for AC (and the effing electric bill that comes with it when you don't have central air and so rely on window AC units to not really cool the effing house off because without insulation that would be impossible but to at least remove most of the humidity from the air so you don't need gills to breathe or sweat like a fucking pig "glisten" just by sitting still and breathing) and I of course have all the windows open.  Which means that I (and the rest of the fricking tri-city area) am writing to you all now while Syd (along with his friend Noah, the green winged McCaw) happily screach their way into Autumn.  Pass the Alieve?  Or better yet, pass the wine?