Another successful hit was the hamster log cabin Neil found in the hamster section of a pet store. There’s all kinds of stuff in that department and we often find the best things there. It’s also where we first found the sugar cane. The cabin consists of straight branches strung together with strong, but flexible, wire so you can bend it into shape. We keep meaning to make more of them with materials we have to make a little maze for him. Note to self: Do it stupid. Anyway, when Neil brought it home and placed it on the base of Pickles’ playstand, Pickles entered it immediately and lay on his belly going ‘oooooo’ and ‘mmmmm’ completely mesmerized. Later we hung a little chain toy on it and he likes to hang upside down on it, or lay on his back to play with it with his feet. He doesn’t often play on his back these days, not like when he was younger but he will do it in his log cabin and also with a cat ball he has hanging off one of his branches near the bottom of his playstand.
I made the mistake of putting him in the linen closet in the hallway one day. I set him on top of the towels and he was in his glory – a dark place to flat foot and towels to boot! At first, all he did was walk around like a chicken in slow motion, head bobbing slowly with each step and clucking his pleasure as he looked around the place. But after awhile, the towels were just too tempting and he wanted to decorate them with his pretty little beak holes so I tried to get him to step up. No way. He liked this little cave and he wasn’t about to give up this amazing new hideout.
After trying several times to have him step-up, I thought I’d teach him a lesson so I closed the door on him and walked away. I stood at the end of the hall listening for scared little squawks but all was quiet. The phone rang, I went to answer it and spent a couple of minutes dealing with the caller and promptly forgot all about Pickles. About five minutes later, I remembered and walked down the hall to rescue him. When I opened the door, he was lying on his belly all fluffed up and I could tell by his eyes that he’d gone to sleep – they were just tiny little slits. “You’re kidding me, right? I asked. But he wasn’t. I had a heck of a time getting him out of there and finally had to resort to physically picking him up with my hands and got a few light beaks for my efforts.
A couple of times since then, I’ve laid old towels across the top of the good ones and let him play in there but now he’s decided that the wooden frame needs to come down and won’t leave it alone so I’ve stopped allowing him in. He badly wants back there and every time I walk down the hall with him on my hand, he does the ‘Grey Lean’ to show me where to go and he leans so far as we pass by that he literally flips upside down on my hand in his effort to reach the closet.
I wrote about how he likes the chest freezer in the laundry room in my last book, and this is still a great pastime for him. The trouble is, the old freezer emits a high-pitched whistling, humming sound and Pickles has started copying it, much to my annoyance. I was doing laundry one day while Pickles had his head in a cardboard box that I keep on the freezer for him to play in and I was shaking out a sheet, which came loose from one hand and fell in a crumple on Neeka below me. I dropped the other end to see what Neeka would do, thinking this might be fun for him and I was right. He started leaping around growling and tugging at the sheet and the commotion attracted Pickles. Pickles pulled his head from the box, turned to look, spotted this leaping, growling entity and totally freaked out. He was up in the air in a flash, trying to escape the small room but the sheet monster was blocking his escape route. I’d never seen him fly so much in one spot. At times he looked like an Osprey, hovering in one place, watching the fish below and the rest of the time he flapped and flew in tight little circles – screaming the whole time. I flipped the sheet to show him that it was just Neeka and, even though he was still a little freaked, he was now brave enough to do a fly-by and flew over Neeka and out the door, down the hall and into the livingroom.
I found him on top of his cage, doing that low crouched, leaning forward, wings quivering out from his body, ready for take-off, but not quite sure stance. Because by now he had realized it was just the dog and he was irked that he was back on his cage and away from all the laundry room fun. “Wanna go to the freezer” he spat at me, so I gave him my hand and took him back to finish the laundry. He was fine after that but I couldn’t resist going “ooooo, look Pickles, a scary sheet. ooooooo” as I waved the sheet slighty toward him, as if it might be coming to get him. He knew what I was doing and he just sat there, peering up at me as if to say “Yeah, yeah. Scared of a sheet. Ha, ha. So funny I forgot to laugh.”
But Pickles’ very favorite source of entertainment is the kitchen counter. He could stay there for hours if we let him and sometimes we’ll clear everything off, place him there and just sit in the kitchen watching him. He’ll dash around, running flat footed or play with some talon toys we keep up there and after awhile he’ll fluff up content to just sit there quietly and even take a little nap. If we’re feeling energetic, we’ll open the silverware drawer for him to pick up and throw all he can to the floor.
I don’t know if all Greys do it but he does what we call the Snow Shovel, where he walks or runs along the surface with his beak to the ground honking like a goose the whole time. Not short honks but one long honk. He does the same thing against walls. I asked him why he does that and he stopped for a moment and said “Huh?” and went right back to it. I asked him if he was a goose and he broke off the honk long enough to say “Juice?” I corrected him and said “No, goose” to which he replied, “You’re all wet.” I took that to mean I was wet behind the ears and pretty darn ignorant to ask but it could have been because I had my hands in dishwater at the time.
I should mention that we always have those little electric socket plugs in the outlets in case Pickles should decide to stick his beak in one of them. I’m surprised he’s never tried to pull one out because I would think those little things would be mighty tempting to a parrot. Although, we keep a couple of extra ones on the counter for him to play with so maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel the need to pull them out.
So, Pickles doesn’t play with toys as much these days but he still loves to just hang around on stuff, talk, sing, listen to the stereo or just hang out with his mommy and daddy. I think his favorite thing to do is just hang out on the couch – especially with daddy – staring out the window, building blanket forts and pretending he’s a burrowing owl with lots of hoots, or napping or cuddling on Neil’s chest with scratches and beaky rubs.
Here’s Neil’s instructions for building a playstand …
Materials
* 2ftX4ft ¾ “ plywood
* Latex gloss paint
* Stand 26”-30”
* Pine 1”X2” (or 1X4) 2 – 4ft and 2 – 26” lengths
* Lag bolts and washers
* Wrench to fit lag bolts
* SS decking screws 1 1/2'” 2 1/2”
* Bird safe tree branches (no pesticides) assorted lengths, washed with bleach and well rinsed
* SS screw-in eye hooks of various sizes
Tools
* Drill
* Screwdriver
* Saw
* Paintbrush
Method
* The plywood you choose must have one good, smooth, sanded side. Paint the good side with at least 2 coats of high gloss latex paint. It is important to have a smooth, easy to clean (and scrape) surface.
* It’s easier to mount it on the stand now in order to visualize the play area as you design it. The best stand is the pedestal type with only one center post attached to the playstand. If you use legs at the corners your bird will use them to access the floor.
* Designing the play area can be trial and error – it’s easy enough to change things around if you have a good supply of tree branches. The ones I make have 2 branches running the full 4ft length of the stand about 3ft above the plywood base. Uprights to the upper branches should have short branches protruding for your bird to climb on. I like to utilize a Y branch that allows Pickles to easily climb from the base a
ll the way to the top.
* To attach the uprights drill a hole in the stand, slightly smaller than the diameter of the lag bolts. Drill the center core of the upright as well to prevent splitting and to serve as a guide. Make sure the end of the branch you are attaching to the base is cut straight so it sits flush on the base. Using lag bolts with washers bolt from under the stand – this is likely a 2 person job. Stainless steel bolts and washers aren’t necessary as your bird will never access these.
* When attaching the upper branches to the tops of the uprights use only SS hardware. Take care that screws do not go all the way through with the point protruding. Always pre-drill pilot holes to prevent splitting.
* Now you can attach the pine border/edge. This will keep your bird from chewing on the plywood. Do not paint the border as it will be chewed on. Mount it flush to the bottom of the plywood so it rises above the painted surface. It serves as both a perching area and helps contain debris from ending up on the floor.
Some Considerations
* Branches should be of a diameter that your bird’s talons don’t touch as they wrap around.
* Don’t make it too easy for your bird to get around. Challenge him a bit. Greys have an incredible reach.
* Toys. Hang lots of toys. They can be used to help your bird access impossible to get to areas.
* Of course any of the sizes can be altered to suit your space. (height, length, width of playstand)
* Branches that extend beyond the base will likely lead to a mess on the floor below.
* Perches or toys directly below a perch are sure to become littered.
* Less is better. In my experience 4 or 5 uprights (at least 2 of them Y branches) and 2 long, parallel high branches is about ideal – at least for Pickles.
Chapter 8
Want Some Music?
“Rain is like a song. It sounds like music, it has a rhythm and it kinda has lyrics. Except the lyrics are wet and get all up in your face.”
“I go beep, beep & mommy says "Roadrunner, the coyote's after you". Cool. I go, beep, beep again & mommy says "Roadrunner, if he catches you you're though". ACK! But wait! I'm not REALLY a Roadrunner. Suck rocks coyote.”
“Sometimes silence is nice. Sometimes, if you listen close, you can hear it. And sometimes, if you listen real close, you can hear it say "It's too quiet in here, could you play some music please?" Cuz everyone likes change. And music.”
“There are little people with little musical instruments in some of my toys. I press buttons and they play music for me - I get 4 of them going at one time. Sometimes I wonder if they have food in there but I can't worry about it right now because I have a concert to conduct. After I take my bows, I will put the toys in my seed dish and they can stick their little hands through the speaker holes and help themselves.”
“I love to sing and I love to sleep. I think mommy would rather listen to me sleep. Doesn't she realize it's HER voice I'm using? Now she knows how the rest of us feel.”
“The snow makes everything soooo quiet. I have to make up for it by singing and whistling really, really, REALLY loud this morning. I think I broke one of my eardrums. I was trying for mom’s but it kinda backfired.”
“I talk a lot but even I know that sometimes I don't always make sense. When I think I might be about to talk nonsense, I disguise it as a song. Everything sounds great when it's sung.”
“I've never actually seen one but I hear they make good music so I told mom to buy me my own little piano. When she gave it to me I thought "What's THIS? I didn't ask for a bunch of teeth!" They must be very sensitive teeth because when I touched them, they screamed. Ahhhh, now you're talkin'.”
“I was bopping away to 'Brown Sugar' on the radio and mom came in and asked what I was doing. I told her I was listening to Brown Sugar and she said "You can't hear brown sugar, you taste it". I didn't know you could eat a song! I'm gonna get me a belly full of music!”
“I've stopped singing whole songs now. Why should I? All I gotta do is sing the first couple of words and mommy sings the rest of it for me. I just do the back-up whistling.”
As with most parrots, Pickles loves music. Loves anything with noise actually. He’s always harping on me to play the stereo and he dictates the music we play. God help us if we play a lame song – a lame song is music that is boring, and boring is music without lots of instruments going on, a good loud beat or lively tempo. And it’s gotta have bass - enough bass that the house shakes enough to vibrate his perch.
Luckily he goes to bed early these days because I’m sure the neighbors were about to run us out of the neighborhood. Neil and I like loud music to begin with but we try to keep the bass down and we can do that on party nights when Pickles goes to bed.
His music has to be upbeat and lively – don’t give him none of that mellow crap or he’ll scream so much you can’t enjoy it anyway. Preferably, there will be violins and banjos because those songs have a beat you can dance to. A few years ago, Neil decided he wanted to learn to play the violin. I thought, yeah, right but he swore he really, really wanted to learn so I ran out and bought him one for his birthday. I told him that if he took it seriously and started to take lessons and like it, I would take up the banjo. That was 4 years ago. I have to concede though, the only time he has time for lessons is in the winter and the nearest town is Kamloops, which involves traveling a snow-covered mountain highway.
It’s probably a good thing though. I think the neighbors would lynch us on the highest tree in our own bird-friendly yard and leave us hanging for suet. See, it’s not only us that are learning and practicing, but so is Pickles! As we learn our notes, Pickles will too – every screeching, grating, sour note. And once we’re past that, if we ever are, we will play lovely notes while Pickles retains the Golden Oldies.
I have played musical instruments throughout my life, although not anymore. I was solo flutist through secondary and high school and I played the guitar a bit too but now I only dabble in harmonica. I was trying to play a new song (new to me) on the harmonica one evening and Pickles kept yelling, “Stop it! No! Stop it! Music! Stop it!” I’m not sure if he was trying to tell me ‘stop the music’ or if he wanted me to stop playing the harmonica and play some decent music instead of the racket I was making. I finally stopped though, since he seemed so agitated, and what did he do? He took up the harmonica by copying a couple of the bars I’d been playing. Had he been telling me to stop because I was playing so poorly or did he just want me to stop so he could practice? I don’t know but this little recorder showed me he was right, it sounded bad.
I don’t know how he expected me to play any better since practicing was out of the question with him around however; after he went to bed I started playing again. “What’s going ON!” was shouted from under the cage cover. “Sorry Pickles” I said as I snapped the instrument back in.
One day, we got up in the morning and informed Pickles that tonight was date night. “Party?” he asked, and commenced his preparations – the sound of a pop can opening and ice being dropped in a glass, liquid tinkling over the ice cubes and then asked us to “play some good music”. It was too early to party yet and we told him so. This was disappointing but he quickly got over it and cheerfully carried on with his party commentary. Neil and I had to go out for groceries and informed Pickles we had to go to the store and that we’d be right back. “Store??” he asked, indignantly “Party! Wanna have a PARTY!!” he insisted. We repeated that we’d be right back but Pickles was fit to be tied and started yelling “NO NO NO NO!!” He never cares when we leave the house, he’s thrilled usually, but today he was adamant that we not go.
We could hear him shouting as we left the house, walked down the driveway and got in the car. All the commotion incited Neeka to run through the doggie door and stand at the fence, barking but we ignored everybody and drove away. When we returned, all was forgiven and the party commenced.
I carried Pickles to the diningroom, where the stereo is, and Neil put on a C
D as I went to set him on his ropes. We had neglected to turn the volume down the last time we used it so the music came on with a crash. Pickles was startled and fell over, clinging upside down on his rope. “What was THAT?” he cried from wrong-side-up position. Neil apologized and gave him a head scratch but Pickles told him to “Stop that!” so we walked away, leaving him hanging.
I had been in the middle of putting up new ropes and boings and some of them were just draped or hanging from only one end, so Pickles decided to play monkey and started swinging from one to the other, grabbing by talon or beak. One rope was attached to the ceiling but because it was long enough to reach the floor, I had just draped it across a couple of other ropes until I could figure out where I wanted it. Pickles swung wildly from one rope and grabbed the loose one on the return trip and kept on going as his weight took the rope to the floor. The rope was caught up so it stopped short about 5 or 6 inches from the floor with Pickles clinging with both feet to the frayed end, his back to the floor, feathers just brushing the ground. Bungie jumping gone wrong. It didn’t faze him in the least but I was glad he didn’t break his back as a result of my neglect, as the goof didn’t let go. If the rope had been a little longer, he would have crashed to the floor. Man, sometimes I wonder how we haven’t killed that bird by now.
Pickles relaxed his body enough that he was now laying on his back but he wouldn’t let go of the rope; I figured he was expecting the rope to retract and give him a ride back up, so I raised the rope up to another rope perch but Pickles started flapping like mad on the trip up, causing the rope in my hand to swing madly in air. All I could do is hold the rope out as far as possible from my body and wait for him to settle down but his wings were carrying them both in large, erratic arcs and circles – the bird was out of control. He started to fly but he wouldn’t let go with his talons so he’d come to the end of the rope and get yanked back. Pickles would ride it out until it headed in the opposite direction, and then he would fly in that direction until he was pulled back again. Back and forth they went, the momentum carrying him higher and higher until it connected with another rope and looped above, backwards and around it – taking Pickles with it and leaving him suspended at a higher altitude.
Pickles The Parrot Returns: My Continued Adventures with a Bird Brain Page 8