Nama saya Parrolito*

The other day I thought of an excellent bird name, which I will henceforth consider as my "secret bird name". You can't have it, get your own bird name. But it made me reminisce about the time when we officially named the bird, and the subsequent times that we unofficially changed his name. Parrolito was born Ricochet Gigantes. I agreed to the name Ricochet in a desperate attempt to dissuade my husband from ever using "Rico" as a child's name. Then the SF Giants won the World Series around the time when we brought him home, so I had to agree to "Gigantes", a spin commemorating the parrot's Hispanic heritage.

All in all, it never mattered, since on the drive back from the breeder's place in Santa Cruz, I accidentally called the bird "Parrolito", which is a mashup of parrot and lorito. That stuck. Then came a series of stupid adorable names that we come up with on a daily basis. When we moved to Qatar, I tried to give the parrot an honourable Arab name, "Maimun Saleh", the first pilot of Aceh. This did not fly (pun intended) with the husband. But it will backfire, since the name must go back to the pile of bird names, the pile waiting for MORE pet birds.

*this post is in honour of my dear friend Nit who suka burung juga.

"Chat"

After many months, I can finally have a "conversation" with this thing.

It goes like this: I say "tickle tickle tickle" in the most idiotic voice that I can come up with, then he considers me for a second (sideways, of course), and replies "tickle, tickle, tickle!", complete with a little wing lift.

I hope it is as exciting for him as it is for me. 

Bird Skype Take II

Skype with Bird, Ottawa to Doha.

Found Object

Bird not so convinced by the new housemate-birdsitter Ben, who sent us this photo today from Doha:

© Ben B.

Found Object #65432B : Scaredy bird. Green. Mixed media (feathers, beak stuff, loud tweets)

Gravity with gravity

Parrot does not understand gravity. Whenever he drops something, he runs to the edge of wherever to give it a good sideways look, a look with gravity. You know, that look that needs the spinning of the whole body, the exact opposite of casual peripheral vision. So he does this for about a minute and a half, in a way that would suggest that he has never seen something go straight down before, as he "looks at gravity", as we say. God knows what goes on inside his adorable head. Now, I tie all his toys to the edge of the cage with string so that they do not fall so far and I stop losing them, and the looks only last a few seconds.

Bird Skype Take I

Skype with Bird. Chittagong to Doha.

Hatch-day!

Happy Hatch-day Parrolis! 

Across the Persian Gulf,

the Indian Ocean

and the Bay of Bengal,

we are still flock.

all hail this awesome creature! 

Falcons, not fans

I am going to start an anti-stupidity campaign called "Falcons, not Fans". I am tired of reading forum entries about parrotlets that fly into working fans and get injured, or die instantly. People: do not have fans if you have birds. I am not sure birds are supposed to die by fan anyway. I think they are supposed to fly into the horizon escorted by a great white falcon made of clouds and fireflies, yes, a benevolent turuk makto of sorts.

It is funny, because when you tell people you have a parrot, the first thing they ask is "how long does he live"? Forever, I hope - how long will you live? So many people that should fly at speed into a working fan...  

Lime + coconut =

You put the lime in the coconut? Check.

 Echo-chirp! 

Being Migratory

The morning after our arrival to Qatar, Parrolito was all chirps and jumps. I was a mess of sleep hangover proportions for a week and a half. Migratory species for the win. Now, migrating a 24 gr. bird in a steel bird of, say, 250,000,000 gr. is the essence of cool.

Not to scale

The international flight went very well. I was a nervous wreck, thinking of the poor bird in the cargo hold for 12 hours, but I suspect that he was either sleeping, or torturing some poor puppy with his best soprano rendition of "do you want your broccoli?", in a loop, forever.

Parrot is my co-pilot

Although United Airlines informs on their website that they can carry "household birds" in cabin for domestic flights, we figured out early on that this meant budgies and lovebirds. Rather than trying to make sense of this, the only way to go about it was to call our bird a lovebird at check-in and during flight from San Francisco to New York. Budgies have such a long tail that I was anxious about meeting the random airline employee who knew his way around "household birds". Parrolito made an adequate lovebird, although given the insane territorial nature of these things, I feel that parrotlets might also be called hatebirds. 

Get him to the Gulf

It is taking a little bit longer to get Parrolito to the Greek Gulf. Just last month, the country decided to change the requirements for all pet imports, where now they require companies to ¨sponsor¨ pets. It must not have been fun for my other half to have to request this, but here we are, in mid-rollercoaster and there is no way out. More tequila please.

Here is how the waiting game went:

Day 1: Parrot passport ready. Permission to buzz the tower.
Day 2: Continental merged with United. This is not good because, as everyone knows, United sucks.
Day 3: Still here. US Fish and Wildlife SF Designated Port started the long weekend way early and I could't book the exit clearance on a Friday at 2pm. You guys are killing me.
Day 4: Mwah ha hahahaha! We are all mad here.
Day 5: Parrot had five baths by 11am, in three different water bowls (one of which is akin to me bathing in a pyrex dish). He is going to love the desert.
Day 6: Vet, USDA and US Fish and Wildlife cleared Parrolito for export in one day. I own bureaucracy.
Day 7: We are off.

1/11th Bird Life

Today we shipped 400 kg. of life to our new overseas address, in preparation for the imminent move. One of the eleven boxes was filled entirely of birdness, to sum up: small "sunning" bird cage, half a manzanita tree, special organic pellets, toys, chewables, a ton of cuttlebone, and a parrot training DVD that I will never use. What this really means is that our life consists of 1/11th of bird. This is a gross under-estimation.

Soaking water, then sun

Doing my bird-laundry (he is not very happy right now)

Bird Radio

Are you tired of the sounds of the city? Do you find yourself reminiscing about that time you were one with nature, whether it ever happened or not? Then look no further than the Ambient section of your iTunes radio, streaming "Birdsong Radio". With the soothing slogan "I found a new way to spend more time with me"(or something like that) you are on your way to bird paradise, or a potential migraine. Recommended by our parrot friends:

"Hi, I am Parrolito, a licensed Forpus (LEED AP). When I want to meditate, preen, bathe or eat in absolute bird insanity solitude, I choose Birdsong Radio. I highly recommend it for that feeling of myselfness, or rather, me and 13.786 of my closest chirping friends. Enjoy."

To my bird - an apology

Watching you try to fly and instead land on the carpet is the most soul-crushing thing I have ever seen. I had to clip your wings, since I am leaving the country for a bit,and you are staying in a luxury spa. You also have to catch an international flight in a few months. So, for your own safety, I decided that you cannot be fully flighted. I could not ask you what you wanted, or make you understand that you should not fly away. There are falcons out there, dude.

Update: I decided there is a special hell for people who clip the wings of birds, which is just a step up from unadjusted children who pull the wings off bugs. And people who talk in the theater (Firefly rocks, amirite?)

#1 Fan

No SPUR, YOU are awesome.

Parrot 1 - Human 0

It is almost Parrolito´s 8-month hatchday so I thought we could take stock of life so far, let´s see:

We eat mostly parrot food. We sleep parrot hours. We hang out with parrot-friendly faces. Rather than him learning human words, I am learning the different chirps and what the "flight face" looks like (useful for catching the thing before it takes off in moth-like flight). We don´t like hands. We don´t like baths. We don´t like the color of the old dinner table, so we sold it on Craigslist. I would say taming is going really well.

Let me rephrase that: Parrot 17 - Human 0. You win.

Having an Angry Bird

Way back in high school in some other country, we were learning the verb "to fling" in English. In our adolescent amusement over nothing at all, we decided we could say "I fling a bird" every time we were asked to use it in a sentence. The teacher, exasperated by our attempts to derail her (fake) serenity, eventually let it be. Crazy always wins.

Little did we know that flinging birds would one day become an option: I rock at Angry Birds. I like birds; I know what the verb "to fling" means; I like flinging virtual things. It´s a winning combination. Angry Birds became an integral part of the mental preparation to get a parrotlet, although I spend most of my mornings trying to catch the thing instead. And the thing is generally angry. There will be wing re-clipping happening very soon.

You are not my real mom!

Parrot doesn't laugh with me

He does not laugh at me either. He is actually pretty freaked out by laughter. And clapping. And other random noises, but not the vacuum cleaner. The vacuum cleaner is comparable to Mozart´s Requiem, and the ear-bleeding screeching of BART as it crosses the San Francisco bay. They all get tweet accompaniment.

So I was laughing alone and in secret when I received the official CITES Export document yesterday, that allows me to take him out of the US. This is half a victory. All those people said it would take forever, but no, it only took three weeks. Go US Fish and Wildlife! I salute you.

Parrotlet 101

A parrotlet is not a budgie.

This is a budgie:

by Electrofisch from de.wikipedia.org

> Look at the long pointy tail and the crazy tiny eyes and tiny beak! 

We may be in a Sonoma winery and you had 45 sips of wine by 11am, then you look at my portable bird and call him a budgie. Don´t.

What´s that? You want to tell me the story of how you used to have a budgie? Then you know! Not a budgie. 

Learning trees

Parrolito: I got you a Manzanita tree. We live in a tiny studio, and I got you a freaking tree. It was so big, we had to cut it into two trees. So now I am watching you learn how to be bird in a leaf-less tree. You look very awkward in it, like you are not really sure what to do. You´ve never been on a tree before. You get to the beginning of a branch and you think you have to walk up the trunk, like you forgot you have wings and ace jumping skills. You silly.

Band of Bird

Parrolito´s breeder was out of town when he hatched, and missed the opportunity to put a closed band on his leg, so he remained wild-looking, a fitting quality for a bird that acts generally like a wild untamed combustible ball of feathered madness. I have to admit, I had a secret irrational hope that a new leg band would make him more tame... but no. It does add a few bites to his new bird jewelry in his preening routine. And it has a drawing of a bear! Why a drawing of a bear?! A drawing of a Velocirraptor, that would have made way more sense.

Bird in Flight

Call to Continental Airlines, possibly the most pet-friendly travel business in the world and life: yes, you may take your parrot with you. Yes, all breeds of parrots. Yes, you may bring your own carrier as long as it fits under the seat and complies with the checklist on the web. Continental Airlines - the Yes Airline.

Call to Qatar Airways, possibly the most bizarre conversation I will have in a while: yes, birds can travel in cabin with you, as long as they are a falcon. It is not a falcon? Please hold [Vivaldi intermission]. No, we do not carry birds. Only cats and dogs. And falcons. Not as cargo, not in any part of the aircraft. Only falcons. As carry-on. Carry-on falcons. We do not carry birds. Qatar Airways - Bird Falcon Friendly Airline.

Conures & cherries

The constant encounter with the flock of cherry head conures, the Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill is the reason why I have Parrolito. We used to live on Telegraph Hill. One day, as the parrots were taking turns sitting on our heads to have pecking fights, a random guy walked by with a parrotlet on his shoulder. The thought of keeping a pet bird literally laid eggs inside my brain, and has been there ever since.

Armed with my bird backpack, we went to meet the flock as they descended on a cherry tree. Conure yapping sounds exactly like humans making a bad impression of a parrot. Parrolito was momentarily impressed and contributed some parrotlet-sized tweets. He then went into what I can only guess is flock-manic-eating-mode on his bowl of pellets.

Passersby asked if I had the same type of bird. Someone asked if I was carrying a hamster. Then a pair of girls looked at my bird carrier and said: "now I have seen everything". Everything? Everything.

ps: members of the flock that become injured can be adopted at Mickaboo Bird Rescue.

Parrot(ˈpærət)[n]: stuff

I posted a request for international travel advice in a well-known parrot forum that I am part of, since I began my transformation into Crazy Bird Lady.

One of the contributors adequately piggy-bagged on my question, posting: I have concerns as well because we will be moving to Australia in the future as we have a home on 5 acres in [random bay of] Queensland. Later on, she could not resist adding: I do not have any other pets but we have a beautiful 30 foot fishing boat and I have gotten estimates for shipping it over there... 

I get it lady, you have stuff. Expensive stuff. Well done, many internets for you. Now, back to my (soon to be expensive) parrot...

Humans suck.

Pet Passport?

In celebration of this godawful date you people call Valentine´s day, I am commemorating my disbanded flock with this blog. This is what I have: I have a human overseas, a second human planning a transatlantic move, and a tiny parrot going through his teenage years.

And so it begins, the process of figuring out how to emigrate out of the United States with our parrot friend. The process begins at the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Services, which, as it turns out, is nothing like the DMV. It is still going to be a long and bureaucratic spring.