Pickles The Parrot Returns: My Continued Adventures with a Bird Brain

by Abbott, Georgi

Me: “Fine, go ahead.”

  Pickles: Gives me the raspberry because he knows he’s fresh out of poop.

  Yup, our world revolves around poop.

  Chapter 2

  Doncha Wanna Eatcher Supper?

  “MOMMY! When you put that lump of crud in my bowl, I just assumed I wouldn't like it. Just as I tossed it with my beak, I got a taste of it AND LIKED IT but it was too late, it was flying out of my mouth! Could I have more please? The dog ate mine.”

  “I have learned that it is important to eat because food is an important part of a balanced diet.”

  “I was looking at all the food and stuff I dropped on the floor and I thought, wouldn't it be weird if it all came alive and like, started yelling for help because the ants were coming and I’d be like, shut up food or I’ll eat you alive. You know, cuz food shouldn't be noisy.”

  “There are 3 rules for bananas. 1) no core 2) cut it up, bite size 3) no icky stringies. Mom got 2 out of 3 right today but she's picking the 3rd one out of her eyelashes. If you can't obey the rules, you must pay the price.”

  “MOM! If you're gonna put grape juice in my bowl, I’m gonna wade in it! If you don't want it all over my feet and the walls, serve it to me on a spoon like you’re supposed to! Are you an idiot or something?”

  “I dare to dare. I dare you to dare me. I am daring. And I am strong. So strong and daring that today I managed to pick up a jar of pickles by the lid lip and flip it into the sink. Take that little pickles! They that dare to take my name!”

  “Originally, spoons weren't invented for eating. Originally, they were called Beak Tappers and were made for mommy's to tap birdie beaks with. Centuries later, people discovered they were good for eating too. Another good use, is tossing them. Today, after some good beak tapping, I grabbed the Beak Tapper and tossed it into mommy's face. Turns out mama doesn't like her beak tapped. Guess it's a bird thing.”

  “When I’m finished eating cottage cheese off a spoon and you don't want it thrown across the room, get the stupid spoon OUT OF MY FACE!”

  “I think a good invention would be banana that scratches your head and gives you beak rubs. How 'bout it Science?”

  “Mom asked me if I wanted a snack and I said "Like what?" and she said "I dunno, what do you want?" I said "How about a lizard?" and she said "What do you mean, a lizard?" I said "I dunno, you started this."“

  “I ate some supper last night and then I went to play with some toys. Mom came over and asked "Was it a good supper? Did you eat good?" And I said "No, I made a few mistakes."“

  “I just told mommy that I want to eat some juice. She told me that you can't eat juice, you drink it. Well! I looked it up in the dictionary and it says - Eat: to take into the mouth and swallow for nourishment. That's exactly what I wanted to do! Drink your words old woman!”

  Finding foods that Pickles will eat is one of the most challenging issues we have. We present him with new and interesting items often. Neil and I will come home, all happy and excited to present some unique find and present it to him, thinking “Oh My God, he’s gonna LOVE us for this!” as we hand it to him. We make a big deal about it as we’re approaching him and he gets all excited, leaning as far as possible on his perch to meet us halfway – he’s pumped and WANTS that new treat.

  Several things may occur here. The most likely is that Pickles will get almost nose-to-nose with it and decide, for whatever reason, that it’s poison and nip your hand or fingers, hard, in the blink of an eye. Because it’s important for him to let you know just how bad you screwed up.

  Sometimes he’ll take a sniff and practically gag. Honest. His throat will retch in little waves, the way birds regurge, and you wonder if he’s actually gonna upchuck. Or he’ll make this sound – it sounds somewhere between a raspberry and a grunt but I think “Hrumff” is what he’s trying to say.

  Other times he’ll take it gingerly in his mouth and give it a delicate little lick then toss it – usually against the wall but preferably in your face. Probably followed by attacking his toys as he stomps around the top of his cage in a rage.

  Sometimes, he takes it in his talon and starts to eat it – but I think he’s just being polite. He’ll take a few bites, quietly drop it and ask politely for “another snack”. If he REALLY likes it, he’ll whip it out of your hand so fast you wonder how he didn’t get whiplash and then he’ll devour it and ask for more. Sometimes we’ll even get the roll-eye. He will seriously lift his eyes toward the ceiling and then avoid all eye contact while he slowly turns his back on us in an obvious snub.

  But the WORST is when we go to hand it to him, he touches it lightly with his beak, cocks his head with a puzzled, hurt look in his eyes, backs up and slowly settles into the fluff position with a look that says “I can’t believe you just did that to me. Got me all excited and offered me crap. I’m so disappointed in you.” That’s what really hurts. You think you’re doing something really nice and all you did was make him feel bad.

  I always wonder about a parrot’s sense of smell. All I’ve ever read is that they, researchers, aren’t convinced of their ability and that parrots don’t particularly apply it much. I seldom notice Pickles appearing to be sniffing and often he’ll snatch something good from my hand without ever having seen it before, and too quickly to catch its scent. I think when they’re not really sure, a sniff is a last resort to determine if they really want to try it or not. At least, that’s how it appears to me. Sometimes, just a glance at food will obviously turn them off, something about the look of it that makes it unappealing. And it never seems to have rhyme nor reason, nothing’s consistent. Shape, size, texture, color – feed him something red one moment and he refuses it but different shape, same red color the next moment and he welcomes it. Change it up and use any combination of the fore mentioned and nothing makes sense. It’s a mystery.

  On the other hand, my mother, Zoe, showed up with a gift for Pickles. It was 3 packages of Sesame Snaps in plain wrapping paper. Any time you hand Pickles something generic like that, he will glance at it with mild curiosity but slowly walk away in a low crouch with slow, thoughtful head bobs as if playing hard to get. When this gift was presented to him, there was no way he could recognize it as Sesame Snaps – perhaps the shape of one, but not three – and yet he almost fell off his perch in his haste to grab it from the hand then tore into it as fast as parrotly possible. In this instance, I’m positive that Pickles picked up the scent.

  But, as for food variety and nutrition, we keep trying. We’re always trying to get Pickles to eat more fresh fruits and vegetables and looking for creative ways to present it to him. We finally get him to eat broccoli so we’ll buy more and then he refuses it for another year or two. He’ll act that way with other veggies, change his mind a lot and it may be that he doesn’t like that brand or it’s the wrong season, not the proper ripeness or the right size or cut of his liking but all I know is we spend a fortune buying produce, and other things, that he won’t eat. The one good thing that comes from it is that Neil and I eat a lot healthier.

  Pickles will always eat a carrot. He loves them cooked or raw, diced or julienned but especially loves a shaving. One day I shaved a nice long piece off an especially long carrot and handed it to him on his perch. He grabbed the bottom as I dangled it above his head - he struck like a cobra and snatched it so fast that it wrapped around his neck on the rebound. Pickles was left holding one end while the other end had wrapped completely around his neck and rested on his back, making him look like he was wearing a little orange scarf. His eyes widened as he let out a surprised “WHAT???” dropped his end and proceeded to do circles on his perch to get it off his back. When that didn’t work, he grabbed his original end with his talon and pulled, but that just tightened it like a noose around his neck.

  I finally grabbed the back end to get it off him but the end that he was holding overlapped mine so I couldn’t pull without strangling him. He wasn’t about to let his end go, not without a bloody fight, so all I could do was wa
it until he opted to change his tactics. When he finally dropped it, I was able to swoosh the carrot strip off his back and from around his neck. At no time was he hurt or scared, he was mostly indignant that a carrot was getting the best of him. “Dirty bugger!” he spat at the offending vegetable in my hand.

  Of all the vegetables, he loves potatoes the most. Raw, cooked, mashed or low-salt/transfat-free potato chips. Doesn’t matter what shape or size, he’ll take it any way he can get it. He asks for potatoes, yells for potatoes, can’t get enough of them. Mashed potato is the only thing he will gulp down in huge mouthfuls and large gulps, as his eyes pin in ecstasy. Neil and I don’t eat a heck of a lot of potatoes but Pickles gets a good share when we do. I know they’re good for birds, I don’t know how much may be too much but how can you deny him one of the few nutritious items that he actually loves?

  One time I gave him half of a really big baked potato. I placed it on the base of his playstand and let him go at it. One hop landed him right in the very middle and allowed him to gobble as he spun in circles, ripping it up as fast as his beak could shovel it down his throat. When he had his fill, he crouched down on his haunches in the middle of the potato skin, fluffed up, half-closed his eyes and lay on his belly, sated and content. Not only did he get to eat a potato, but now he gets to sleep in a potato. Oh, the glory of it all!

  A boring list of fruits and vegetables that Pickles will eat regularly is, anything in the potato family, carrot, peas, corn, cauliflower (but only steamed), peppers of any kind (but usually only the pulp and seeds), lettuce, pumpkin and squash, steamed zucchini and steamed celery. Fruits he eats are, banana, pomegranate, grapes (usually only green), papaya (but usually only the flesh and seeds), and oranges (but usually only the pith from the inside of the peel). He’ll eat most grains, rice, pasta and beans – all cooked. He likes walnuts, pecans and almonds but pine nuts are his favorite (pine nuts are actually seeds though) but pine nuts are only given for treat rewards.

  He likes poultry, sometimes beef and will sometimes eat some lean bacon, the odd time we cook it up but he rarely gets meat of any kind. Hates seafood. Likes Raisin Bran, without the raisins – I think he’s convinced it’s mouse turds - and especially Cheerios. Treats he doesn’t get often but are his favorites are, Sesame Snaps, jelly beans, sugar cane bark, pudding and Jello. Obviously, he doesn’t get those things often because of the high sugar content.

  If you’re wondering about sugar cane bark, try Googling Kaytee’s Nature’s Benefits Sugar Cane – it’s not only tasty but it gives a bird something to chew on for awhile. He goes nuts for homemade pancakes (without butter or syrup), homemade French fries and pizza crusts. He gets his seeds every couple of days but will only eat the safflower and the odd pumpkin or sunflower seeds and his Pretty Bird pellets (the only ones he will touch) are always available. If I can find the cardamom seeds in the white shell, he will split the shell in two, cup one half in his talons and scoop out all the seeds with his beak. He can’t manage to eat the green or large brown cardamoms without spilling them when he splits them open. He smells delicious after eating them and the whole house is permeated with the delightful scent. He’ll drink juice, sometimes apple, some kinds of orange but mostly grape. He likes whole wheat or rye toast in the mornings and often gets oatmeal porridge for breakfast.

  Sometimes Pickles is very fussy about the way fruits and vegetables are presented to him. One day he wants them diced, next day he wants a chunk he can hold in his talon. There were some things that we thought he didn’t like but once offered in the manner of his choosing, he would eat it.

  Speaking of vegetables, we had invited a friend over for stir fry one evening and Pickles, who loves company and didn’t want to be left out, was set on his diningroom boings a few feet from the diningroom table. We sat our guest, Rick, down and left him alone momentarily while Neil and I went to the kitchen to fetch wine and other items. We returned to find that Pickles, having seen a window of opportunity present itself, had dove to the table and splashed down, right in the middle of our guest’s dinner plate.

  Pickles had made a field day out of it by chowing down with happy flingings of food as he burrowed into the pile. Rick was leaning as far back as possible but the chair insisted he remain within less than an arm’s length. His arms were thrown down and back, leaving his chest and lovely sweater a viable target. He was frozen in place. Ohhh, he acted like this was the daily norm for him and that it was no big deal, but his body language and facial expression clearly betrayed him.

  Neil scooped Pickles up by cupping his chest and belly – no time for a step-up argument – and carried him out of the room. Having grabbed talons full of noodles, they sailed through the air beneath him as he squawked in protest over this undignified treatment. I could hear Pickles swearing at Neil in the other room as he plopped him unceremoniously on the top of his cage and while I nonchalantly picked food scraps from the poor man’s clothing – remarking, “He never does this.” It wasn’t really a lie. But only because we never eat in the diningroom so Pickles never gets the chance to do it.

  Rick was very gracious about it and even remarked in his defense, “I was merely confused as I didn’t know if parrot required salt and didn’t want to offend the hostess.” But it wasn’t until after he departed that evening that, while clearing the table, I noticed that we had neglected to remove Neeka’s litter box, right next to the table and to the right of Rick’s chair. I almost died. Especially since it contained a nice chunk of turd. You can dress our family up but …

  Anyway … the way we get the nutritious foods that Pickles doesn’t like into his fussy little body is with birdie breads. I put a bunch of his favorite stuff in the bread and add a fruit or vegetable that he doesn’t like – chopped up fine, or pureed – and it takes on the flavors of the other things in the bread that he does like. Sneaky, but effective. I’m sure Pickles doesn’t have the best diet that a parrot could have, but we try. In the beginning, we tried removing seeds, pellets and snacks and just leaving fresh food in his bowl but he would literally starve himself. I know this works for other birds but it didn’t work for us. Pretending to eat something ourselves would work occasionally but usually he’d just roll it around in his beak then spit it out.

  Pickles loves to be part of the supper-making process. It seems there’s nothing more pleasing to a parrot, than to hang around on a counter, explore and knock to the ground, anything in sight. It’s an opportunity to flat-foot, run, hop, skip and jump. Is there anything more precious to watch? Pickles carries out his counter business as I prepare his supper. This involves snapping off a square of his frozen birdie bread, heating it up, breaking it up, mixing Hemp Seed and Herb Salad into it, dumping it into his twist-on supper bowl - all with short interludes of Spoon Beak Tapping – and then it’s off to Ride The Supper Bowl back to his cage. The twist-on bowls are handy because he gets a little merry-go-round ride at the end.

  During the whole process, Pickles commentates about his supper. “Supper? Mmmm, supper.” He’ll cock his head and look sweetly into my eyes and ask “Gonna eat some supper?” “No” I say, “Mommy’s eating something different.” He stares into my eyes, in deep thought. “Doncha wanna eatcher supper?” he asks. “Not now” I answer. And off he toodles in search of mischief, all the while asking, “Potato supper?” No. “Bean supper?” No. “Carrot supper?” No, we’re having a banana bread supper. “Mmmmmm”

  Pickles will always step up for a Ride On The Supper Bowl; over the years we’ve made a game of it. We had to do something to get him to step up off the counter. He’s usually pretty good about stepping up when we want or need him to but, c’mon, the kitchen counter? But now, no matter how badly he doesn’t want to leave the counter, he really, really wants to ride that supper bowl. And then, once the ride is over, he’s really happy to have a nice warm supper. However, he will not dive in until he’s sure he has fresh water to wash it down. If we forget, he will politely ask “Fresh water?” or “Be right back with the f
resh water” or make the gurgling sound as we walk away in our forgetfulness.

  Sometimes he likes to feign falling off the bowl as we’re riding to the cage. “On no!” he cries as he lowers his whole body down until only his head and talons are visible above the rim and then he’ll throw his body back so far, that he’s almost upside down. All the way back to the cage, he’ll whistle for Neeka – figuring that the dog should join in this game or at the very least, act as spectator.

  Pickles loves counter tops but it can be quite the pain in the ass to have him there. I have to either clear everything off before I put him there or I have to watch him like a hawk. Once up there, he travels at bullet speed trying to get into anything I was stupid enough to leave there. Nothing’s too heavy and nothing’s too scary. I’ve discovered that a toy he would normally find a little disturbing at first, is assumed, by Pickles, to be forbidden fruit if it’s on the counter, therefore it must be grabbed as soon as physically possible and before it’s ripped from his beak.

  Once, he flipped the sugar bowl into the butter plate just before I managed to remove them and when he saw my hands approaching, he took off running – right through the whole mess. It was summer so the butter was especially soft, even runny around the edges, so Pickles was able to track this mixture across the counters, over a tea towel and cookbook and across my hand as he used it to pole vault, rather than step-up, onto the top of the bread machine. When I went to reach for him he jumped back on the counter, right back into the mess but his buttery feet slid him (and much of the mixture) straight into the silverware drawer. This was convenient. He thinks of the silverware drawer as his own personal toy box so he got busy throwing knives at me and spoons on the floor.

  Oh My God. I stood there staring at the sticky mess I’d have to clean up and I’d just about had it with Pickles. I tried one last time to get him to step up but my finger was merely used as a springboard. Pickles bounded up, landed on a big wooden spoon that had moved to the edge of the counter during the commotion with its handle sticking about 6 inches out and away from land. Thinking of it as a perch, he walked the plank. The spoon collapsed below him and he fluttered to the ground as the spoon part followed and knocked him on the head.