Pickles The Parrot: A Humorous Look At Life With An African Grey (2 page)

He wasn’t particularly destructive although
for a few years, buttons were snapped off in a blink of an eye and
all clothing was pocked with little beak holes. TV remotes were
completely fascinating and there was no obstacle that could keep
him from them.

He knew right away that our laughter was a
good thing and he was like a toddler, doing whatever it took to
keep it coming. If he ever got in trouble, he’d quickly throw in an
antic for distraction. And it usually worked.

I think his first comedic antic was the time
he spotted an empty pop bottle that had fallen to the floor. He was
down from his cage in a flash and running toward it before we had a
chance to pick it up. When he got to it, he lowered his head like a
bull before a charge and stood there clucking at it. When the
bottle didn’t respond, he gave it a quick shove, which sent the
bottle rolling and Pickles took up the chase. A few shoves and
rolls later, Pickles decided to hop on it and suddenly found
himself doing the barrel roll with wings aflapping, ending in a
face plant on the carpet.

The bottle needed to be taught a lesson so he
grabbed it by the neck with his talon and waved it in the air with
a loud verbal assault. He alternated between waving it in the air
and smashing it on the floor until he misjudged and bonked himself
in the head. This made him angrier and he waved it harder, until he
got bonked again! The angrier he got, the more spastic his motions
so he just kept getting bonked. Finally, he tossed it away and as
he turned to leave, the bottle came after him—a result of its
ricochet off the table. Pickles ran screaming to my feet, scrambled
up my leg and sat there all fluffed up while muttering as he
glanced angrily over his shoulder to make sure the bottle wasn’t
following.

Since Pickles was happiest sitting on a lap
or couch arm, he quickly realized that talking was in his best
interest. He knew a few words before we got him but now he spat out
new words at staple gun speed and used them wisely. We’ve never
really taught Pickles words, we merely converse with him as you
would a young child learning to speak and connect meanings to
words, for the most part.

Pickles was cheeky and sneaky and full of
sass. Teasing and torturing were his past time, everybody and
everything was fair game. The first real proof we got was the day
he was sitting on the top perch of his cage, digging in to his
hanging bucket of talon toys and tossing them with pinpoint
accuracy into his water dish below. Once the bucket was empty and
the water bowl full, he toodled down to sit on the side of the bowl
to pick out the toys, one by one, and throw them to the cage
floor.

The small white whiffle ball, filled with
pony beads, was saved until last. This poor toy was destined for
torture. He eyed it softly, purring to it as he gently plucked it
from the water with his talon "Hello baby. Step up. Good boy!" he
praised. He caressed it lovingly against his ears, clucking and
cooing and then, having successfully seduced the ball into
submission, he turned on it…

He waved it savagely in the air, held it next
to his beak and began the interrogation. "Want some fresh water?
HUH? WANT SOME FRESH WATER?" he demanded. Before the ball could get
its bearings and answer, it was quickly submerged and held beneath
the water.

Just as the poor little ball was on the verge
of drowning, he yanked it out and waved it violently in the air
shouting "WANT SOME FRESH WATER? HUH?" but before the little ball
could answer, it was quickly dunked again. This went on several
times until Pickles cast the choking, sputtering ball off into the
corner in repulsion.

He dismissed the poor defeated ball, climbed
out of his cage and turned on
me
. "Wanna grape? Wanna grape!
WANNA GRAPE!!" I quickly brought him his grape but he was so
embroiled in his tirade that it took him a moment to notice that
I’d already set the grape on top of his cage. He shouted on, "WANNA
GRAPE! WANNA GRAPE! WANNA GRAPE! WANNA ooooooooo…uh…huuuuuuh." He
set upon it and left me in peace, thankful that I had escaped his
water torture.

Another time, I handed him a pinecone to chew
on, he flung it in my face and told me to "Stop being a brat."

I sang him a song and he spat "Just stop
it!"

I was on my hands and knees cleaning up the
mess around his cage and he hollered "Get back up!"

I give him a tasty snack and he demands "Want
ANOTHER snack."

I leave the room to fetch a different snack
and he hollers after me "Be right back!"

I return and give him a grape. He grabs it in
his beak, flings it across the room and says, "Want juice."

I give up, sit on the couch and ignore him
and he asks politely "Whassa matter? Don't you wanna grape?"

"No" I say, "YOU'RE a brat."

"Bugger" he retorts.

You can’t win with him and he always gets the
last word. We are emotionally abused parronts and there is no help
program available for people like us. We are doomed for life.

I had never heard an African grey scream
before and the first time I heard Pickles scream, I almost had a
coronary. I came running into the room expecting the worst and
found him hanging upside down on a toy. “What’s wrong??” I asked,
“Are you okay??” He just looked at me and said “Huh?” I stood and
watched him for a minute and he just hung there, jabbing at his
toys. I figured it was a false alarm and left the room. Immediately
he let out a bloodcurdling scream and I ran back to him. He was
upside down, flailing his wings and screaming bloody murder. I
figured he must have got his toes stuck in the toy so I started to
reach for him saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll help you.” And he
went limp, looked at me upside down and said, “Huh?” He was
obviously fine, just a little put out that I kept disturbing his
play, but I’d had the scare of my life and my first Grey scream
experience.

We were struggling to find foods that Pickles
liked, he seemed to turn up his nose at most things so it was
frustrating to us and we were afraid he wasn’t getting enough
nutrition. We had read that Greys are social eaters and had even
read where people allowed their parrots to dine with them, so we
tried it a couple of times. What fools we were. After making our
dinner, we placed food on 3 plates—two large for us and one small
one for Pickles. Pickles was set on the kitchen table, next to his
plate and everybody ate nicely, for about 10 seconds. Suddenly, our
food was more appealing to him than his own, even though it was the
same food. We thought, okay, let him eat from our plates but then
he insisted on stomping straight into the middle of the pile. Now,
we’re not particularly fussy about feet in our food but all the
food on Pickles feet became abstract artwork on every square inch
of the table. Our food was only temporarily interesting though, as
knives and forks became more important and then glasses, salt and
pepper shakers, sugar bowl, napkins and anything else he could pick
up or knock over. Dinner became a battle with a dashing, skirting
little bundle of feathers. That idea lasted 2 days.

We wondered if just eating in the same room
might help. Since Pickles cage was in the living room, we took to
eating at the coffee table. We always fed Pickles while we were
preparing our own dinner and he would basically ignore his. But as
soon as we plopped down our plates and commenced to eat, he
couldn’t scramble fast enough to his food dish. He ate the entire
time we did and didn’t stop until we finished. Case solved!

Pickles prefers routine but he’s not as
fanatic about it as some African Greys. He’s content waiting for
people to rise in the morning, he just sits and chats to himself.
However, breakfast has to follow pretty darn quickly after the
cover comes off. For the first few minutes he constantly greets us
with “Good morning!” but soon turns to “Want breakfast.” Back then,
I had my computer in the kitchen (I’ve since moved it into the
guest room) and Pickles’ cage was situated next to a window divider
in the living room, which looks in to the kitchen. While Pickles
eats his breakfast, I check emails and attend to work related
things. One morning, on garbage day, I dragged myself out of bed
and put the water on for coffee. I lugged the garbage cans through
the snow, plunked them at the end of the driveway and placed heavy
rocks on top so the crows couldn’t flip the lids. With frozen
hands, I fed Pickles then sat down at the computer to drink my
coffee and warm up.

Not 5 minutes later, I hear a sound. A
chattering kind of sound. I stop and listen—it stops. I go back to
reading emails and there it goes again. I glance through the window
between the kitchen and the living room and Pickles is sitting on
his perch, next to the window, all fluffed up and half asleep so it
can’t be him.

I go back to my emails and the chattering
starts again. I look at Pickles but he’s just sitting there, still
half asleep. Then it hits me, that’s the sound of a squirrel!
Shoot, it must have snuck through the open door while I was taking
the garbage out. The sound seems to be coming from the living room
so I go and investigate but don’t see anything. I check the
mudroom, can’t see anything there either.

Back to the computer, take a sip of coffee
and there’s the sound again. This time I’m sure it’s coming from
the living room so I tear the place apart. Nope. Nothing. Hmmm.

This time, I go back to the computer, put my
elbow on the desk, cradle my forehead in my hands and pretend to be
looking at the computer while I’m actually peeking through my
fingers at Pickles. It’s not long before I hear the chattering and
see Pickles’ open beak and vibrating throat.

“Aha!! I say. “It was you all along!”

“Goof” he mumbles as he closes his eyes to
sleep.

Pickles learned to say “Wanna snack” very
quickly. That, and “Poop on the paper.” We use pine nuts for
training and rewards. They are very expensive but he loves them
more than anything. In the beginning, I would have him sit on my
knee and ask him “Wanna snack?” and then give him one. I think it
took about a day before he asked for one and the minute he did, I
handed it to him. I think he was in shock. He had asked for one,
and one appeared! He was taken aback for a minute but then ate it
and right away and asked for another one. I was thrilled that he
learned so quickly but from then on, he drove us crazy asking for
them.

Soon, after asking for a snack and being
rewarded with one, I’d ask him if he wanted another snack. It was
uncanny the way he picked that up. He always asked first “Wanna
snack?” and the next time was “Wanna nudder snack?” He has never
asked for ‘another snack’ before asking for the first one.

He has picked up on the difference between
asking for something and stating that he wants something. For
example, if he wants a snack but isn’t sure if we’ll give him one,
he’ll ask for it (?) but if he really wants it and maybe we’re not
listening, or refuse to give him one, he will demand “Wanna
snack!”

He has since applied this to many things. If
everyone is home, he will state “Everybody’s home! Woo hoo!” but if
we are in another room and he can’t see us, he asks “Anybody home?”
If he’s in a good mood, he will sweetly ask, “Wanna go for a walk?”
but if he’s bored and cranky, he says, “Wanna go for a walk!!”

We taught him early on to poop on paper below
his play stands. We put paper below the front 2 corners where he
liked to sit on the bottom of his play stand to protect the carpet.
Then, every time he’d poop there, we’d tell him “Good boy! Poop on
the paper!” and hand him a snack. It didn’t take long before he’d
sit there and ask for a snack and we’d tell him “Poop on the paper.
Poop for a snack.” And he would. Sometimes, he’d be so busy pooping
for snacks, he’d be fresh out of poop but he’d try. He’d shake and
shake his bottom and strain to get one out but there was nothing
except a little “phfft” sound. They say birds don’t fart but I’m
telling you, he managed to get air.

If we noticed Pickles on the top branches of
his play stand, preparing to take a poop, we would say, “No, no,
no, poop on the paper for a snack” and after a few days of coaxing,
he would come down to the corner to do his business. Often, he
would be playing on the top branches of his play stand and suddenly
stop and go “No, no, no, no, no, no…poop…no, no, no, no, no…poop on
the paper.” then climb, fast as hell, down to the right spot, take
his poop and say, “Good boy! Poop on the paper for a snack!”

He’s always had a bit of a fascination with
his poop. He likes to let it loose and cock his head to watch it
fall. He’ll stare at his artwork and remark, “mmmmmm”.

Pickles is camera shy, always has been. I
don’t know why but from the first time we ever pulled the camera
out, he’d run and hide behind something or he’d go from sitting all
fluffed up and cute as a button, to stretching and sleeking himself
out toward the camera. We always end up with this big head in the
foreground, skinny body behind and Pickles with a look on his face
as if to say, “Get that damn thing OUT of my FACE!”

Videos are hard to take too. If I want a
video of Pickles, I have to place it somewhere and leave the room.
The trouble with that is, Pickles moves around and ends up out of
the line of the camera. I have a couple of videos with Pickles
chatting himself up but I’d like to get some film of us interacting
and talking with him too.

Pickles likes to go for swings on a hand
towel. I hold it above him and he grabs on to the bottom and pushes
off as I swing the towel back and forth with him hanging upside
down. “Shwing baby shwing!” he goes. “Woo hoo!” he exclaims.
Suddenly he’s climbing the towel towards my hand and there’s no way
I want that. Pickles gets rough with his beak when playing and I
don’t want him to latch on to a finger so just as he reaches the
top, I grab the bottom of the towel with the other hand and flip
the towel so he’s back down on the bottom. He figures, this is fun
and scampers back up.