“I had my boings and ropes hanging between the diningroom and kitchen and set up a road block. Nobody was allowed into the diningroom without getting attacked in the head. When mom tried to go through, I started to attack but at the last moment, I realized she had the proper permits in order. Sesame Snaps.”
“The last think I want to do, is bite my mom. But it's still on the list.”
“I've been sitting still, pushing out my belly, pretending I'm Buddah and hoping my mommy will rub my belly. It's supposed to be good luck - let's see if she falls for it. C'mon, don't be ascared, rub my belly.”
“It takes a big man to cry. But it only takes a little bird to make him do it.”
“Everyone's got to believe in something. I believe I'll draw blood today. I will give the donor a cookie in exchange.”
Pickles has a bit of a rough beak. He doesn’t seem to know his own strength and when he gets excited while playing, he can get a little carried away and nip us a little hard. He seems to get the most excited and nippy around me these days but he’ll get Neil too. He loves to hang upside down on your hand and will flip himself over on his own but then he’ll get so excited that he’ll start biting your finger. Not really hard, but hard enough to pinch. He doesn’t always bite but you never know when it’s going to happen so watching his body language is imperative.
He loves it when we make forts out of blankets on the bed or couch and usually he just lays on his belly, fluffs up and coos or hoots like an owl but with me, he’ll try to nip the hand that’s holding the blanket up. Daddy can stick his hand inside to pet and scratch Pickles but not me – he will bite for sure. I just need to work on that.
Talking on the phone really gets his goat. At first, it’s fun for him. He pretends he’s talking too and even lifts his talon to his ear, copying our motion of holding the receiver to our ears, and has his own conversation with the intermittent mechanical voices he does because that’s what it sounds like when someone on the other end of the phone is talking. But after he says “Bye-bye, beep” and hangs up, we’re supposed to too and if we don’t, his squawking becomes very loud and annoying. If he’s in jumping range, he will attack the phone or a hand. If we pick him up absent-mindedly while engrossed in conversation, he will step up and bite extremely hard – hard enough to take chunks of skin and/or cause nerve damage. During all the years we’ve had him, this is when we’ve been bit the hardest. Pickles doesn’t often bite really hard and the phone has caused almost all of the most painful bites.
I know to keep a safe distance when I’m on the phone but Neil sometimes makes the mistake of trying to appease him so he’s received the worst of the bites. Sometimes it’s hard to avoid it because he will flap or fly down to get our attention and it’s hard to talk on the phone and keep an eye on him at the same time. Even if we set the phone down for a minute, he’s already in attack mode and he knows when we pick him up he’s going to be set down and ignored, and this is unacceptable to him.
One time, I was in the middle of an important, complicated conversation, which required my full attention. In hindsight, I should have moved to the computer room or something but I didn’t. Pickles got louder and louder and eventually the guy I was speaking to commented about the noise. “It sounds like you have a parrot – I have one too. Aren’t they great?” so we had a short conversation about how intelligent and wonderful they are. “My bird’s not noisy at all.” he informed me. “Neither is mine,” I said – which was met with silence. “Well, except for when I’m on the phone” I conceded. Stupid bird, making me look like a fool.
We went back to talking business and Pickles suddenly flew to my shoulder and lunged for the phone antenna that was sticking out from under my, at that time, long hair. A tug-a-war ensued and I managed to rescue it from his beak but now he was tangled in my hair and mad as hell. I’m trying to stay cool while politely listening to this guy - and not wanting to let on what was happening - but afraid I’m going to lose an ear or eyeball and I can’t get Pickles out of my hair with only one hand.
I go to my knees and calmly and quietly lay on the ground, hoping this will encourage Pickles to settle down and try to walk out of my hair but he’s wrapped up pretty good. I try to untangle him with my free hand but he’s chowing down on any skin that comes near him and I’m in pain. Neeka notices the commotion and wants to join in the fun so he jumps on my belly and I don’t have a third hand to push him off. Suddenly, Pickles grabs hold of the fleshy, outer side of my hand and starts to grind and I scream – directly into the phone receiver. “OW – OW – OW – OW!!!! – HANG ON!!” I shouted as I threw down the phone and tore Pickles, kicking and screaming, from my hair.
I planted Pickles on the floor, shooed the dog of my belly, got to my feet and wrapped a tea towel around my bleeding hand, took a deep breath and went back to the phone. “Hello?” I said. “You okay?” he asked. “Um, yeah. I, uh, just spilled hot coffee on myself” I lied - with Pickles now attacking my foot and chasing me around the room, trailing long hair attached to his talons. I wasn’t about to explain it to him, didn’t want him thinking I had a psychotic parrot, and didn’t want him imagining me laying on the floor fighting a bird in my hair and a dog on my belly while talking into a phone.
We have to be very careful if Pickles is stuck, scared or in pain. I think most birds are like this. It’s frustrating because all you want to do is help them but they don’t understand so they lash out at you. As we’re trying to help Pickles, he will give us serious bites. If he has hurt himself by falling, he will hurt us immediately after if we are close.
So yeah, Pickles bites sometimes. The biting isn’t usually bad or frequent, but it does happen. We can usually anticipate the bite and his body language is always a good indicator, but only if we’re paying attention. Sometimes, before biting, Pickles will announce “No bite!” just before he goes for the jugular, as a warning to back off or give him what he wants. If we get bit, it’s always our own fault.
Chapter 13
That’s Scary!
“I'm afraid of a nail file. Okay, sounds stupid right? I don't know why I am. Maybe cuz it's rough and it could scrape me. Maybe cuz it's full of fingernail germs. Maybe it's the color. I dunno. Oh, did I mention this is a poison nail file? Maybe that’s the reason.”
“I was sitting in my cage, under covers, minding my own business and contemplating life when suddenly mommy appeared at the back of my cage and scared the hell out of me! After I finished bouncing off the cage walls from fright, she said she was sorry. Sorry??? She's SORRY??!! Well, let's just see how sorry she is after she cleans up all the crap she scared out of me.”
“I'm your average weird African Grey. Sometimes I imagine I hear things and it scares me. Sometimes I imagine I see things and it scares me. Sometimes I have a bunch of imaginary friends but they won't play with me, they'll only play with each other. So then I have to imagine they all fall down a well.”
“My mom thinks it's weird that when I walk around on the floor, that it doesn't bother me that everybody is so tall and towering over me. She thinks it should be scary for me but it's not. I'm not ascared of tall people, only short spiders.”
“Man oh man oh man. Mommy turned the loud stove fan on when I was least expecting it. I got so scared and confused, I lifted off and straight into the stove hood. I almost got sucked clear to Kingdom Come!”
“Sometimes I can't distinguish the difference between dreams & reality. They're no help when I ask them & dreams are particularly good liars. Sometimes reality's pretty good though if you stick a feather quill up your nose cuz it will say "Ouch, why'd ya do THAT?" and then I know I’m awake & in reality. But if you do that to dreams, they just run away scared & leave you in painful reality & it's like, did I just wake myself up or was I already awake? So, pain is not a good determination. For me anyway.”
“Never wear anything that panics the bird.”
“I was sitting on my hanging wreath & mom walked up with an open box so I jumped in
to hitch a ride. She took me to the base of my playstand where I jumped out & she turned the box upside down. It had a cut-out opening for me to go inside but that box, once upside down suddenly became very scary. Mom put some nuts inside and now I’m ascared for them but I can't save them - it's every man for himself!”
“Mom won't let me play with her duct tape. She says I’ll get my feet stuck to it like a bug on a fly strip. I thought - cool, like a snowboard. That's not so scary.”
Before we ever got Pickles, we knew that African Greys could develop phobias. We got Pickles from a very good breeder and they had done an excellent job at introducing him to new foods, toys and situations so Pickles was basically fearless in the beginning. We kept it up as best we could by offering new items and taking him new places as much as possible. Taking him to work in the fly shop was great for him because he never knew what would happen there and he learned to take everything in stride. But over the years, he has developed a few phobias because it’s impossible to think of everything that might be scary in the beginning and after awhile, right out of the blue, something is suddenly scary to him.
In the beginning, we were convinced that Pickles would be different, that he would remain a fearless Grey; and while I’m sure there are some out there, I think it’s fair to say that it’s practically impossible to expect a Grey not to develop phobias.
All in all, Pickles is still pretty good about being introduced to something new and he will tell you if something scares him by saying “Scary” or “That’s scary”. If we’re showing him a new toy, we watch his body language for the slightest indication of discomfort and move the item to a safe area outside of his comfort zone. We never force the matter, as some ‘experts’ have advised, and don’t believe in ‘flooding’ which is exposing a person or animal to a fearful item or situation and keeping them next to it in a state of anxiety until the fear subsides. Instead, a new toy would be moved across the room where Pickles can see it but not be stressed from it and slowly, within a matter of hours or days, move it closer to him until he takes an interest in it.
It works to gradually get Pickles use to something but what we’ve found works best, is to pretend it’s ours and that he shouldn’t have it. We’ll play with it until he’s anxious to have it himself while making it his own choice.
Of course, that doesn’t help him with his fear of feathers. Okay, I don’t think he’s really afraid of his own feathers but you’d think they were of a murderous variety and out to get him from the blood curdling screams he emits if one is floating in the air around him. I’m not sure if those downy feathers make him mad or if it’s just an excuse to act out in mock fear but the screaming, violent wing flapping and running causes quite the commotion – especially since the wind from his flapping wings manages to suck the feathers right back at him rather than blow them away. Sometimes he attacks them and kills them with his beak but when he tries to spit them out, they stick like magnets as he tries to rip them off with his talons. Then they stick to his talons, of course, so the attack and destroy tactic isn’t always successful.
I can’t resist picking up a loose feather, placing it in my palm then blowing it in his direction just to watch his reaction. One time I did this when he least expected it while he was perched on his playstand and as the feather floated toward his feet, he rose straight up in the air, hovering like a little helicopter to escape it as the turbulence from his wings sucked it up toward him. Pickles did frenzied circles, in one tight spot, trying to avoid it until the feather managed to glom on to his toe, sending Pickles flying across the room to get away from it.
During flight, he managed to loosen it but after banking and heading back to the playstand, he flew through the feather’s airspace, affording feather attachment once again but this time, right between the eyes. I swear he was cross-eyed as he flew by my head, banked and returned to land and tangle himself in my hair. Not this again, I thought, not without a bit of panic. What is he? Part bat?? What have I done??? I guess I deserved whatever was coming to me but as it turned out, Pickles slid easily through my hair as I held his body in my hands and pulled him free. As I set him on his stand, he spit “POTATO!!” with urgent venom and I figured that’s his demand for all the trouble I caused, so I obliged to please him.
The feather had disappeared during all the fuss but I found it in my hair later. Once again, I couldn’t resist. I blew the freshly discovered feather in his direction but this time he calmly snatched it from the air, balled it up in his mouth and sat chewing it like gum for the next hour. Sweet revenge.
Then there’s the feather duster – a long, hot pink, evil duster for cleaning up all his white dander. He’s afraid of it and will either run away if he sees us with it, or scream at it while trying to grab and kill it. We don’t tease him with it and we try to keep it away from him so as not to upset him. He’s okay with it as long as it’s across the room and away from him and if I’m dusting around his area, I move him to another spot while I do it.
I had been dusting the livingroom one day while I wasn’t feeling well. I started to get dizzy so flopped myself down on the couch to rest. I decided to take a little nap but Pickles wasn’t having it. He’s usually really good about letting us sleep on the couch, especially if we’re not feeling well, but today he decided to squawk that annoying noise at me to show his displeasure. He climbed down the corner of his playstand and started splaying his wings. I anticipated the launch, reached for the duster on the table and held it up between us at the moment he took to the air.
It was too late for Pickles. He had taken off and was heading straight for it – there was about four feet between the couch and the stand, which left him only two feet to do an about face. He put the breaks on just inches from the duster, with his talons out before him like eagle claws poised for the prey, as his wings slanted backwards and propelled him up so that he could twist and drop back onto the stand.
I don’t advocate negative reinforcement, but I’d just found the perfect defense to keep him from flying to the couch when we’re watching TV. He doesn’t fly much but some days he refuses to leave us alone and constantly flies over to mess with us. Not any more. I’m so bad.
Speaking of both fear and negative reinforcement, we use nothing but positive reinforcement with Pickles, except for two things. We tend to keep the feather duster close by and when we see Pickles thinking of flying over, we pretend to reach for it and that stops him in his tracks. It’s not waved at him; it’s just a reminder that he might not want to be near it. He simply stops thinking of flying over and gets busy doing something else, with no hard feelings.
The other thing we have is a red, remote control car. It’s a little convertible, about eight inches long with the batteries removed so that it is no longer remote. I’ll talk about it a little more in another chapter but for now, I’ll just say that we keep it under his cage sometimes – for the times he gets in the mood for climbing down from his cage to the floor. He can’t climb down from his playstands because they have been built with legs in the middle so that he can’t reach them to slide down. And he seldom flies when he wants to go somewhere, he prefers to walk as it offers a more scenic and entertaining route.
He doesn’t like the car but as long as he can’t see it, it doesn’t bother him to have it under his cage. Every few months or so, he gets into stages where he wants to walk around so after he does it a few times, we show him the car and place it below the cage. At some point, he forgets it’s there and climbs down but once he gets to the metal cage curtain for his final descent, he sees the car and scrambles back up. It snaps him out of his mood for wandering, we remove the car and he’s good for weeks or months after that. I’m not proud of using the feather duster and car techniques but it solves both of those issues while we lack any other solution.
As I mentioned in a previous chapter, Pickles does not like certain red colors. We have to be careful about us, or guests wearing red clothing and although most reds are fine, when we least expe
ct it, he freaks out. I can’t discern between the colors but obviously, parrots can. If a guest wears a scary red, Pickles will hold a grudge forever. He will not allow that person to get too close to him in the future because he still associates them with red. Pickles is friendly with everyone, at all times, but not in this case and not for a long time after.
Pickles seems to forget about items he hasn’t seen for awhile. If a toy doesn’t remain in rotation and ends up sitting in the toy chest for too long, he’s a little afraid of it when it finally pops back up. For two years, we had a playstand with a cat scratch post and box sitting on it. He loved the box because it had holes on all sides so he could go in and out or play peek-a-boo. A three inch ball, with a bell in it, dangled from a ledge above the box and he loved to lay on his back on the carpet and play with the ball with his feet, hang upside down on it, beat it up and make love to it. It was his very favorite thing to do.
We like to rotate the stands like we do the toys and we removed the cat scratch stand for a few months. By the time we brought it back out, he was scared of it and refused to go anywhere near it. One of these days we’ll bring it back out and get him used to it again but we haven’t tried for awhile because it got ruined in storage and needs to be fixed up a bit. By the way, this scratch post/box has the carpet stapled, not glued, as glue is toxic but he never chews on it anyway, for some reason.
Sometimes, Pickle will run to his Fun Factory or log cabin for protection if he’s fearful of something and this is what he did one day when a friend walked in wearing a bright colored shirt of reds and purples. Pickles let out a loud squawk as she entered the room and he scrambled to his log cabin on top of the cage. All he did though is stick his head inside with the rest of his body still exposed. Like an ostrich sticking its head in the sand – I can’t see you, so you can’t see me! Now and then he would back out, spy the colorful shirt and duck back in.
Pickles The Parrot Returns: My Continued Adventures with a Bird Brain Page 12
