Yesterday was a chilly, chilly day for south Florida. When I took Mattie out yesterday morning it was probably only about 40 degrees outside. Laughable for those of you in the frigid parts of the world, but nevertheless, this is cold for the “Northernmost Outpost of the Caribbean.” This isn’t exactly Canada you know. (Except when the tourists come. Then it might as well be Montreal.) Believe me, I understand your pain. I lived in Minneapolis for twelve years before going to New York with the Airline. My experience there however, did not exactly measure up to “The Mary Tyler Moore Show.” It was more like “Northern Exposure” but not nearly as entertaining.
I brought Mattie back upstairs, uncovered the birds, “bombed” them (They all poop on cue.) and fed them breakfast. While they were eating, I tidied up the living room, vacuumed, and spot cleaned the floor before settling down to do some writing.
Normally, Parker finishes his breakfast before Pepper and Nyla and he begins looking around to see what he can get into. He’ll hop on over to Nyla’s house and mess around on the top. Nyla practically has a stroke when he does this. She gets a little upset because she likes her house and I’m sure she’s not the least bit interested in Parker messing around with her stuff and pooping in there. If anyone is going to poop in her house it’s Nyla. While this is going on, Pepper is minding her own business and busily dives into her food like it was her last meal.
This is the way it usually is. However yesterday, Parker was quiet, polite and almost a perfect gentleman. A few whistles. clicks and some “Whoo-ooooo,” now and again, but for the most part the little boisterous guy with a stack of CDs for a mouth was subdued, quiet even. He was a lovely bird when he was growing up; a sweet little guy who adored attention and he was very polite. A real sweetie:
How could you not find this little creature with the skis for feet to be anything but captivating? I’ll admit, baby parrots kind of have that “dinosaur” look going on, but nevertheless, a baby is a baby:
Then, he grew up and went from being a baby to being a bird. Somewhere along the line he became a parrot:
So you can understand how this “I’m a perfect little parrot.” jazz was making me suspicious yesterday. Hmmmm….this is not the little hellion I have grown to love. Could it be the chilly weather? Was he not feeling well? (Sure, he acts like a perfect parrot and it has to be because he’s coming down with something.) I was stumped. Perplexed. Then it hit me:
He’s acting normal again after two months of being in breeding condition. My birds are normally pretty quiet little dudes. They don’t scream, throw hissy fits and act like little brats. Well, most of the time. When it’s “The Season,” all bets are off. But yesterday I simply basked in the knowledge that I have my old Parker back. At least until next season…