I was up at the parrot rescue for a few hours this past Saturday, mostly making toys for the parrots currently at the facility. As usual, it kind of put me in a sad mood. So many wonderful parrots! There are a few that I really would love to make part of my flock -- in particular a blue crowned conure and a greenwing macaw. However, as I've stated many times here, I realize our limitations, and bringing anyone new into our home right now just wouldn't be fair to those that are already here.
This got me thinking about the circumstances surrounding the entry into our home of each of our parrots. It's really interesting how things turn out. There have been literally scores of parrots who picked us (either Thomas or me or both) at the rescue that we didn't bring home. Stella, the last parrot to enter our flock, didn't particularly care for either of us when we first met her at the rescue. I thought this would make it easier to simply foster her, but she quickly warmed up to us and we kept her. What would her life have been like if we hadn't kept her? Would we have taken another bird in to our home, or would we currently only have five? Playing what-if games like this is ultimately futile, but I can't always control where my mind wanders.
This got me thinking (more mind-wandering) about how wonderful all our parrots are. Although they occasionally frustrate me (if I were at home, I'd glance at Rocky now), I feel as though we could not be happier with our birds. I hope that every parrot-owner feels that their birds are the best in the world. And then I got sad again, thinking of the birds at the rescue, with no family; no one who thinks they're the best bird in the world. I hope that they find that special family where they can be cherished and loved as they all deserve.
Then I walked over to my parrots, thanked them for being so wonderful, and gave Calypso the attention he was begging for.
Just as I was sitting there, thinking all of these nice thoughts about them, something possessed them. Every single one of them (almost) started doing something irritating. Rocky and Beeps screamed. Stella slammed her bell against the side of the cage. Max started eating the mini blinds. Only Calypso and Daphne remained sweet.
I think they wanted less thinking and more dancing out of me. Or at least that's how I read it, so I turned up the music and we all expended some energy.