Since Pratchett was a mere hatchling I’ve struggled to get him to clean up his act. He’s never tried to clean himself in his bowl, as far as I know. I’ve taken him in the shower and bought misters, both of which made him scream like it was acid he was being spritzed with.

But I accidentally came up with a way to trick him into cleaning himself (a little) the other day. His current bit of bamboo was gnawed into bits and it was time for another, but it’s practically been monsoon season and everything’s soaked. I cut a stalk bigger than any he’s ever had before…but I put it on top of the cage instead of inside:

He even opened his wings a little and shook himself so maybe his little ‘pits got a little damp. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

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.

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…

(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.

We’re in the middle of the seasonal parrot relocation. They stay in the living room while it’s cold since I can heat it easily, but now that it’s warming up it’ll be back to the kitchen and the view of the garden. Last year I was indulging Pratchett and he was the only one quartered in the solarium, with Jack coming in for periodic visits. Pratchett was not thrilled about these. Not one bit:

He just wanted to pretend there were no other birds around, while Jack wanted to chase him around the room. Ah, sibling rivalry.

I was poking around and came across a new concept in bird toys and gave it a whirl. You go to Birdy Booty to check out their samples, decide they’ve got a whole lot more time and creativity than you, and fill out the form.

You don’t choose a specific toy; you determine how much you want to spend, and tell them about your bird(s), their likes and dislikes, color preferences, the whole shebang, and wait for your box to arrive. (Pratchett’s instructions were that he’s easily annoyed- he wants to be able to break his toys up immediately, all the better to make me have to buy new toys ASAP.)

There was much rejoicing at the opening of the box:

I suspect more boxes will follow.

Oh, and they accept donations for the amazing Project Perry- if you donate a toy to them, BirdyBooty’ll match it. Click the link to see phenomenal photos of the aviary they created for rescued greys.

Back when I was doing research into whether or not to become a parrotperson I’d learned about Dr. Pepperberg’s amazing work with Alex, and now Griffin and Wort. After Alex’s death in 2007, I was shocked to learn (through her book Alex & Me) that despite being a world renowned researcher, she still has to scrape and beg for money.

Partially, that’s because there’s never enough money to go around, but it’s also because many scientists don’t consider her work important enough to be taken seriously, which makes me a little insane, honestly. How many millions of hours have been spent trying to understand how animals’ brains work, and here we have one that can actually communicate and because it’s in a form they’re not accoustomed to (ie, not a primate) it doesn’t count? Talk about hubris.

Anyway, end editorial. If you don’t know about Alex, check it out. I think you’ll be surprised.

Exerpt from Pepperberg’s book here.

Donate to the Foundation here.

And another great, but unembedable video here.

This falls into the good news/bad news category: Pratchett’s started talking! He’s been saying “Hello” with fair regularity, and he’s got a bunch of other words coming down the pipe. I’ve heard this stage called ‘birdie baby babble,’ which is about right- he sort of works on them when he’s alone, saying them over and over to himself, working it all out.

So, imagine my surprise when something new happened this weekend- he started yelling at the dogs…which made me realize how much Iyell at them, because now Pratch is beating me to it. We have a new dog next door, and whenever she starts yapping, Sammy and Bruiser have to join in, even though my dogs have no idea what they’re barking about. And this new dog yaps a lot.

But now, as start as they get cranked up, Pratch yells “S’mantha!”, followed by a bunch of stuff that’s not understandable yet, but will probably evolve into either “knock it off!” or “be quiet, dammit!”

So yeah, little birdies have big ears. Gonna have to start watching that. Again. It’s kind of like having a toddler all over again, and just when I’ve gotten used to the idea that Alison already knows all those words I’d rather she didn’t.