Post by siobhan on Dec 5, 2015 14:26:58 GMT -5
When I got home Friday night, late again, I thought the birds' room was abnormally quiet. Usually they hear me come in and set up such a cacophony that I have to go say hi before I can do much of anything else. I heard one or two soft chirps and no shrieking. And I knew what I would find when I went into their room. Maggie was lying on her cage floor, eyes closed, gone. Her wings were slightly spread and her beak slightly open.
The smaller parrots who lived with her (Clyde, Jade, Freddie, Johnny and Benjy) weren't fond of her. She bullied them and Johnny, in particular, felt it was his cockatiel duty to scold her emphatically any time she did something or sat somewhere that he did not approve of. Yet they lived more or less peacefully together and she was a member of the flock. They knew, and they knew what my reaction would be when I found her. After a few minutes, Clyde flew over and landed on my shoulder and kissed me. He sat there a moment or two, and when I stood up, to start doing what was necessary, he flew back to a boing. The rest remained where they were and quiet. We took Maggie in because her family was moving away for health reasons and the doctor, as doctors so often do, blamed living with a non-human family member for some of the health issues. That always seems to be the first question a doctor asks when you come in with any sort of complaint. They believed the doctor (I argued with mine when he blamed birds for my migraines) and Maggie had to have a new home. She had not quite reached her fifth anniversary with us, and the previous family had her for five years. They found her in their back yard, so we don't know her age or background. She was, as my husband phrased it, “a real people person.” Maggie was friendly to everyone and enjoyed landing on a new person's head because most people are not accustomed to having a plump white pigeon land on their head and the reaction apparently amused her. She always was the first to come flapping over when I came into the room. She ruled the roost, being so much bigger than the others that they let her have what she wanted, whether it was a perch, the food dish, or the shared bathing dish. Her favorite thing was to sit on the back of my chair, with her head buried in my hair, and coo madly while I reached back to stroke her. She loved to be petted. Until Rocky came along, she was the only bird I could snuggle. I can pet most of the others and they let me kiss them when they're in the mood, and Clyde even kisses back, but snuggling is out. Maggie loved snuggling. She learned to step up, which “experts” will tell you pigeons won't do. She slept on a perch, also against “expert” knowledge. She played with toys, not as much as the parrots, but some, and her favorites were budgie-sized toys, in spite of her size.
After I took down her cage on Friday night, the room seemed hollow and empty in spite of the five remaining cages and the parrots, who quietly started to chirp a little when the cage was gone. Clyde returned to my shoulder. Benjy took possession of my left hand, his favorite perch. Jade sat on the boing next to my chair, but had nothing to say, which is unusual for her. All of them were subdued. By this evening, they will probably be back to normal, more or less. Birds are pragmatic. Bird business must be resumed. But I will miss my pigeon queen and her affectionate, sweet nature.
The smaller parrots who lived with her (Clyde, Jade, Freddie, Johnny and Benjy) weren't fond of her. She bullied them and Johnny, in particular, felt it was his cockatiel duty to scold her emphatically any time she did something or sat somewhere that he did not approve of. Yet they lived more or less peacefully together and she was a member of the flock. They knew, and they knew what my reaction would be when I found her. After a few minutes, Clyde flew over and landed on my shoulder and kissed me. He sat there a moment or two, and when I stood up, to start doing what was necessary, he flew back to a boing. The rest remained where they were and quiet. We took Maggie in because her family was moving away for health reasons and the doctor, as doctors so often do, blamed living with a non-human family member for some of the health issues. That always seems to be the first question a doctor asks when you come in with any sort of complaint. They believed the doctor (I argued with mine when he blamed birds for my migraines) and Maggie had to have a new home. She had not quite reached her fifth anniversary with us, and the previous family had her for five years. They found her in their back yard, so we don't know her age or background. She was, as my husband phrased it, “a real people person.” Maggie was friendly to everyone and enjoyed landing on a new person's head because most people are not accustomed to having a plump white pigeon land on their head and the reaction apparently amused her. She always was the first to come flapping over when I came into the room. She ruled the roost, being so much bigger than the others that they let her have what she wanted, whether it was a perch, the food dish, or the shared bathing dish. Her favorite thing was to sit on the back of my chair, with her head buried in my hair, and coo madly while I reached back to stroke her. She loved to be petted. Until Rocky came along, she was the only bird I could snuggle. I can pet most of the others and they let me kiss them when they're in the mood, and Clyde even kisses back, but snuggling is out. Maggie loved snuggling. She learned to step up, which “experts” will tell you pigeons won't do. She slept on a perch, also against “expert” knowledge. She played with toys, not as much as the parrots, but some, and her favorites were budgie-sized toys, in spite of her size.
After I took down her cage on Friday night, the room seemed hollow and empty in spite of the five remaining cages and the parrots, who quietly started to chirp a little when the cage was gone. Clyde returned to my shoulder. Benjy took possession of my left hand, his favorite perch. Jade sat on the boing next to my chair, but had nothing to say, which is unusual for her. All of them were subdued. By this evening, they will probably be back to normal, more or less. Birds are pragmatic. Bird business must be resumed. But I will miss my pigeon queen and her affectionate, sweet nature.
