We’ve always had parakeets (budgies) in my family, one at a time starting with my sister’s parakeet Pretty Boy in the 1950’s. I don’t remember him, but somewhere around here is his picture. I’ve heard stories of how he could imitate my cry as a baby and get my mom on a run while I was sound asleep.
The ones I remember:
Peppy (1958? – 1962?) – I picked him out at a local dime store. I found out later that I’d chosen an old bird and he never became friendly, to say the least.
Budgie – (1964? – 1968?) – We found him in our back yard, obviously an escaped pet. No one claimed him, and after we cleaned the parakeet cage and got him seed, water, and peace and quiet for a while, he became a good companion.
Budgie II – (1971? – 1976?) – Bought from a local breeder at a young age – we had to feed him oats soaked in water for a while. He quickly became another good friend and companion. (Nowadays I wonder if I confuse some of the stories about the two Budgies. They both had similar playful personalities, were friendly and finger tame, both learned to say “Budgie”, “pretty bird” and “good bird”, and either one would sit on my shoulder as I walked around the house. They both loved bells.)
Chipper (1983 – 1990) – My sweet wife surprised me with the gift of the old family parakeet cage all cleaned up, so we picked a young budgie from a pet shop. I almost named him Sidney (after the city in Australia, where parakeets are from). We joked that his real name was Sidney W. Chipperman II and we called him Chipper for short. We also called him our track star; he would run back and forth on the cage floor. He was also curious, and would lift up the corner of the cage paper and get underneath it to explore. I got him to sit on my finger a few times, but he never learned any words. He was a fantastic singer though, he would sing on and on; beautiful. We also had a cocker spaniel at the time, and Chipper could imitate the sound of one of Mindy’s squeaky toys.
Chipper II (1990 – 1998) – Maybe not quite as adventuresome as the first Chipper, but he was lively as his name implied, and seemed always to give a cheerful chirp to any of us as we’d enter the room. He learned a few words, his name and I think “pretty bird” or “good bird”.
But I’ve got to say that Feathers was extra special. We never successfully finger tamed him, and his cage was his home; he never showed any interest in getting out and flying around. He had such a sweet nature though, and if I came up to his cage and put my nose against the bars, he would come right over, talk to me, make kissing sounds, and nuzzle my nose with his beak. Feathers would do that for any of us, but he was especially fond of our first daughter. He would also let her gently scratch his throat under his beak.
Feathers learned several words, including his name. After a while the kids sometimes took to calling him Budgie, and he picked up on that too. I tried to get him to connect our uncovering his cage in the morning with the words “good morning”. My wife and I thought we may have heard him say that back a time or two, but I was not quite sure. We also said “thank you” to him over and over right after we’d give him fresh seed or water. I’m sure I heard him say something like “thank you” – as close as he could get anyway – once, right after we had taken care of him in some way.
We were able to teach him “bird” (he heard that in a lot of combinations: “pretty bird”, “handsome bird”, and “good bird”), “what’s up?” and “what’s you doing?” (I thought it would be neat if when one of us entered the room, he would immediately ask, “What’s up?”, but that didn’t work out quite that well). Early on when we were actively teaching him words, we would repeat the same word over and over. I sometimes would pause a bit in the hopes he would repeat the word back, but almost always he would just wait and listen for me to say the word again. Later on when he would sit and entertain himself with singing, he would mix in the words he knew and sometimes throw in a new one. He also learned to imitate a laugh, and that was a joyful sound to behold.
He came up with one odd thing; a while after the DVD’s of the Lord Of the Rings movies came out. We noticed that once in a while he would say “precious”. The kids swore they hadn’t deliberately taught him that, that he must have heard it when we watched the movie and liked the sound of it. I wonder if one of us said the word “precious” out loud along with Gollum’s dialogue, and that’s what caught his attention when we said it.
Aside from Feathers’ sweet, friendly personality, what really amazed us was his use of our names. He learned two names for sure, that of my oldest daughter and my son (my youngest daughter says he also said her name, but I didn’t hear that). The neat thing was he was consistent with connecting the name to the right person, well most of the time anyway; more often than you would expect by chance. When he wanted my first daughter to come over and give him attention, he would call her; when he wanted my son, he would call him over.
Feathers also had a little plastic toy penguin on wheels. He loved that thing, and once after daughter number one had gone off to college, I came into the room and saw him looking down at his penguin and heard him call it by my daughter’s name, three times in a row. He never figured out my name though, I guess being called both Bob and dad was confusing, and I didn’t try to teach him my name like the kids taught him theirs. But knowing that parakeets can easily imitate a kissing sound, I would often make a kissing sound towards his cage. So he took to making an excited, loud combination of chirps and kissing sounds whenever I walked in the room. Of course I would oblige and come right over to him. He soon had me trained…that was his signal to get my attention from then on. I loved that bird.
Fascinated by "Uncle" Feathers.Feathers was quite the climber, he was all over the inside of his cage. One thing he obviously liked to do was climb up to the top of the cage and hang upside down; he would do that quite a while, turning his head to look back and forth. When he did that (and he did, often), we’d call him bat-bird. He would also let us know if we’d overlooked something, like his gravel cup. He’d sit on his perch and lean towards it and stare at it, until we added gravel. During hot weather we’d sometimes try to get him to bathe in a little plastic tub we’d sit on the floor of his cage. For years he would sit and ignore that, and would go over to his water cup, grab it by his beak (it would move a bit), and rock it back and forth until he’s splashed himself and the newspaper on the cage floor. A little over a month ago I finally got him to get in the parakeet bathtub a couple of times.
Another thing, parakeets love celery, and Feathers was no exception. I would wash a leafy piece of celery and get - maybe - half way across the living room when he'd get obviously excited; he knew I had a treat for him from at least six feet away. I don't know if he could smell it, or if his eyesight was that keen at that distance.
Our blue bird of happiness.You can tell a young parakeet by the black and white striped feathers that cover from the back of his head all the way over the top to his beak. As they mature, the feathers on the head turn a solid color, usually yellow or white (in Feathers’ case, a very, very pale yellow, almost white). The eyes also change from a solid black to a black pupil surrounded by white. Feathers stayed youthful and active and “kept his stripes” for a long time, and his eyes stayed solid black his entire life. He gave us 11 good years of companionship, which is remarkable in itself. Before, I never had a parakeet live more than 7 ½ - almost eight - years. In these last couple of months I noticed he’d slowed down, but he was still climbing around his cage and we saw him do his bat-bird thing.
Sunday we returned from a wonderful 10 day trip out west (I’ll post some about that later), and we’d had my wife’s parents “bird-sit” Feathers. They took good care of him, but I think while we were gone he had a mild stroke. When we got him back he was sitting on the cage floor, not moving much. He would climb up his ladder, but his right foot wouldn’t close on the rung; he could kind of balance, but was not steady enough to climb up the cage or get in his swing for the night.
Monday was pretty much the same, he looked unable or unwilling to do much. I was in the kitchen when I mentioned to my wife that I thought Feathers must have had a small stroke while we were away, and that it would be kind to put a seed and a water cup right on the floor for him.
Shortly after that a remarkable thing happened. I walked to the living room, looked in his cage and there he was up on his perch. I went right over, put my nose against the bars, and slowly, haltingly he came right over to me and nuzzled me with his beak; one last act of affection from one friend to another. I don’t know how he managed the climb to the perch, but it seems like he wanted to be there for me. I have tears in my eyes as I write this.
That evening we covered his cage up, and I told Feathers the usual, that I loved him, good night, and I’d see him in the morning.
Tuesday morning and through the day he was still with us, quietly sitting on his ladder or on the cage floor. My wife and I had meetings to attend at seven p.m. Sometime between then and 9:30 or so, Feathers died while we were away.
We’ve said our goodbyes, and Feathers’ body now rests beneath the magnolia tree, near Chipper II. I already miss his cheerful greeting, and every time I walk into the living room I automatically look over to the now empty cage. I’m remembering the good times along with these sad days…I recall how much Feathers seemed to enjoy it – how he would sing, talk, bob his head, swing in his swing and climb around his cage – when his people were all in the room with him. We will have another parakeet when the time seems right, though I don’t expect another one quite like Feathers. But that’s okay, I still remember all my birds, and I expect we’ll find another young budgie who will brighten our days and give us companionship.
Feathers, thank you so much for 11 good years. You were a big part of our family, and I will always remember you. Rest in peace, my good friend.
The time is nigh for the High Holy Days at Bob's house, for it is the time of fireworks in our land. Whether it is model rockets (another passion), or fireworks, Bob is more than a little pleased when there are propellants to ignite.
