Posts Tagged ‘African Grey’

I finally got around to moving the boy’s perch into the kitchen- it hadn’t been any kind of priority because they haven’t shown any interest in it whatsoever, but I spent a bunch of money on this thing and I’m determined to get them interested.

Well, Pratch got interested, alright- but not in the big contraption:

He just likes getting up high, and standing on top of the hanger was pretty cool…until he started worrying about how he was going to get down:

He did finally manage it. And, although these were taken about a month and a half ago and he’s had plenty of time to explore the exciting options the perch offers him (everything moves! jingles! twirlly fun!) he still prefers the stupid hanger.

He seems just like a kid who prefers the box to the toy inside. Sigh.

Well, that’s the birds’ interpretation, anyway.

The yearly vet visit is a little different for the birds than the dogs. Puppies get leashed, widdle a little on the doc’s floor and get over it. They know there’s a treat at the end and the bonus of a car ride, so they go along with the program without much fuss.

Birds? Oh boy. Typically Jack’s the troublemaker, but he went without much of a production. Pratchett led me on a not-so-merry, squawking, growling, 20 minute long miserable chase around the kitchen. You would have thought I was trying to kill him.

Never heard a CAG growl? Oh, how you’ve been missing out…






I think Linda Blair took acting lessons from these birds, and Pratch did it for several hours straight.

Check out these fluffled up feathers and glare:

So he had to be toweled twice in one day, once just to get him in the crate, once for his exam, and it was not pretty. I thought the wing clip was going to give him a heart attack, and let’s not even talk about the nail clipping…

Note that Jack is way over in his crate, trying to see what the hell could be so different over in Pratchett’s world to cause all that noise…

The whole time all I could think about what the prediction of a “very active” hurricane season and what a barrel of laughs it’ll be if we actually have to evacuate with our own growling, freaked out and above all LOUD parrot soundtrack.

Bird toys are damned expensive. Totally cool, but made to be destroyed, and so there’s this sort of double edged sword to putting a new toy in their cages. Like, “Ooh, great! They love that one, they…oh, geez. Dead already.”

vs. “Ooh, dammit. Did I just spend that money for nothing? Totally not interested in it…but at least it’ll last awhile, I suppose…”

Except for one thing – the bamboo!

It was one of the first things to go in when we first started the garden, not realizing that the stuff is indestructible and will do its best to overrun everything it can. I don’t have a picture from when it was planted, but at only about 3 feet tall and in a 1 gallon container it looked innocent enough.

It’s now almost as tall as the house and has to constantly be whacked back, because it’s impervious- bugs don’t eat it, the cold doesn’t touch it, and after it rains you can practically sit back and watch it grow with the naked eye:

I don’t know if you can get an idea of the depth here, but there’s a ton of the stuff.

Luckily the parrots have decided they love it- I’ll cut a couple of canes and criss-cross them through the bars. The boys’ll go to their work, stripping and breaking them down, covering their cages in shredded little leaves.

It’s kind of hard to get pictures of the action, but here’s Pratch hanging down from his swing to get at it:

Honestly, he usually stands right on the canes to strip them, but he had a little a little Wile E. Coyote-style accident the day before. Taking a tumble after snapping the branch he’d so recently been standing on made him a little more wary the following day.

Jack loves it too, but of course had to get nosy when the camera came out:

He actually has it somewhat easier, being smaller, lighter and (sorry, Pratch!) more agile, he climbs and hangs all over the stuff- it’s a completely free jungle gym.

Proving that I am totally insane, I briefly considered buying another of those tiny, innocuous containers of the stuff at the nursery, thinking I could leave it in its pot between the parrot cages. They could strip stuff at their leisure, Pratchett could have a screen between himself and the hated Jack, and the bamboo would be contained and unable to spread.

Luckily I came to my senses, which, contrary to popular belief actually does happen once in awhile. But if you’re looking for a low cost, high yield parrot toy, this one fits the bill! Or beak. Or talon…

Pratchett’s decided he’s a fan of peanut butter. He recognizes the jar, and his eyes start pinning in anticipation. Even though we’re talking about the low fat/sugarfree variety he can’t have very much, so I’ve been trying to make a little go a long way.

Smearing a thin layer over a measuring spoon keeps him happily occupied for a surprisingly long time:

As a rule he’s not a nippy boy, but I’ve learned to only let him play with it if there’s enough time to let him have at it til he’s done, because he will defend his noms. He’s not interested in so much as looking up until he’s dropped the spoon to the ground and gotten every last scrap off his beak and talons.

Last year it was only Pratchett in the kitchen and he felt his life was good. To Pratch’s dismay, I brought Jack in this year, too, and set up their various toys in the gap. Yesterday was the first day they really got to explore, and they were both so excited they forgot about each other and just played. I thought it was progress…

(cue ominous music)

Pratch was happily ringing every bell in the place when he remembered the ones on the far side of Jack’s cage. He used the net to navigate over, and Jack spotted him like a shadow passing over the sun.

At the last moment, the boy sensed something was wrong…

But it was too late… Jack attack!

All Jack really got was a beak full of red tail feathers. Pratch was fine…well, everything but his ego. He was quite grouchy for a little while, but a few almonds smoothed his feathers.

Still, I’m determined to have a peaceable kingdom. Eventually.

He really wants those little balls OUT of the rattle but can’t manage to break it open.

For those of you who aren’t crazy parrot people, I’ll mention that the fluffing up at the end is something birds do when they’re aggrevated.

Ol’ Jack’s been having himself a fine time lately. He’s started really playing with toys all over the place, and suddenly he’s started talking. Senegal parrots aren’t especially known for their ability to speak, but I think this one’s gonna be a firecracker.

One of Pratch’s favorite things to say is “Peek-a-boo! I seeeeeee you….” About a week ago, I got worried about the boy- I thought he had a horrible case of the hiccups, but then I realized he was saying “peeka! peeka! peeka!” over and over… he’s working on adding the “boo” now. He’s been saying ‘hello’ for awhile, and the newest vocabulary word is Pratchett’s own “Pew!”

He’s generally just feeling his oats and stealing whatever he can get his beak on. In his mind he’s about 6 feet tall, large and in charge.
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Last week Sammy, big lummox that she is, let loose with some really horrible gas. Honestly, I’ve never seen (or thankfully, smelled) another dog like this one. It’s not her diet, we’ve tried everything. It’s just her. She can take the most innocent kibble and turn it into toxic waste.

So Sammy lets one go, and I jokingly say to her “Sammy! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Pew Pew pew!”

And, you guessed it. Pratchett LOVES the sound. So now, even when the dog’s not doing it, the parrot’s sounding the alarm.

I’ve been trying to get a video of Pratchett doing this so, of course, he stops as soon as the camera’s out, which is why it’s so far back and showing off my beautiful vacuum and the Halloween Harlot which has yet to get put away.

When I was closer, all he wanted to do was show me just how much noise he could make:

He’s got a real talent, as you can see. My favorite move is when he hangs on the outside of the cage with his beak and one foot and searches around with the other foot, trying to find something to bang around. I took this video first, before stepping back to get the longer one, and I even tried to get him to echo me, but he wasn’t having it.

I know you’ve got to be careful what you say, around parrots, but it’s kind of maddening how they’ll ignore the hundred things you’d like them to say and pick up on the one thing you said in a random moment. I’ve been trying to get him to say “WHO DAT!” for weeks and he couldn’t be less interested, but the dog farts and now I’ll be hearing about it for the rest of my life.

a new dSLR! Whoopie!

Did I need it? Uh… what, exactly does ‘need’ have to do with it? The Canon had a great run, fantastic camera, and after 10k+ photos it’s been passed on to a wonderful new home where it’ll be appreciated.

But I thought it’d be nice to not have to carry around multiple cameras to get video. And we do a lot of night shooting, so not having vibration control has been a major PIA. Plus this one’s got a great tilt screen so when I’m holding it above my head shooting into a crowd I have an idea of what it’s looking at…

Need? No. But after all the craziness with the sale after all the drawn out stress of closing the business and the transition, I decided I’d earned a new toy.

And, apparently, Pratch thought he did too:

It seems that every kid, every where, just loves to play with boxes.

Sorry, couldn’t resist.

Pratchett stole a Saints clapper and went to town on it pre-game on Sunday. I can’t say he gives a damn about football, but he’s a big fan of anything that makes noise. After the Herculean task of hauling the thing up to his veranda, he got pissy. He thought it worked like a bell and when he couldn’t get it to work he decided to break it instead.

Still. How ’bout dem 6-0 Saints!?

They’re well known for breaking our hearts, but the feeling around here is optimistic. Half the city’s hoarse from screaming on Sunday, and it’s only going to get more intense.