R2 is a sweet little Meyers Parrot who was gifted to me by my former neighbors, joining my household on March 31, 2006.
R2 doesn't really care for women, her previous captive humans didn't have the time to provide her with the attention she requires, and, of course, there was the incident with Bessie (who tried to bite off her beak competing for food).
Through bird-sitting or BirdJanitoring (as I call it), R2 has bonded with me.
Miguel and R2 have been friends for a long time; there are no issues of jealousy .. just more work for BirdJanitor®.
I think people should name all their children with meaningful strings of letters, numbers and punctuation. It
would make Human Communication and Information Processing all the more interesting.
Actually R2 is short for R2D2. Her repertoire of whistles and sounds would make George Lucas proud!
R2, doing what she does best .. wandering on my desk
(she also spends many, many hours on my shoulder)
Captain Morgan R2
R2 enjoying a fortune cookie
Her fortune read You may lose the small ones but win with the big ones
I shed tears at the memories of Llola and Zul, my two tiny Parrotlets, not much bigger than my thumb.
I'll stick with the Big Ones and leave the Little Ones to a better place.
Then there's the what up with Bessie...
Specifically, if there was that beak biting incident, just why has Bessie found a place here?
Another oddball story.
Bessie moved in with me in August 2009 (the exact day escapes me) after a more than four-year stint of me as her BirdJanitor®, walking up the road with Miguel in tow, twice a day. First to put her outside, clean her cage and feed her. Later to bring her back inside and feed her.
It was announced that Bessie's people were moving to another state and she would not be joining them. Bessie was to be placed in a bird sanctuary to live out her remaining days of parrothood.
I protested I'd miss her, as I'd grown quite fond of the bird who bit through my nose on first meeting to one who had become a good friend (albeit a guarded one). And, of course, I'd make room for her.
So, one August morning, I packed up Bessie's things, her cage, aviary, food and whatnot, and she made the move a quarter mile down the road.
So, proper introductions are due. Bessie is an African Grey parrot. Age uncertain, though said to be about 35 years. She was a rescue from a home in Denver Colorado, where she was abused and exposed to drugs and alcohol. She spent many years with her past family, bonding only with two of them. She is aggressive to anyone and everyone else.
Bessie now spends her days in her aviary on my patio, next to Miguel.
My patio resembles the Twin Towers Jail Facility in downtown Los Angeles
Bessie hits The Motherlode!
I was told Bessie wasn't willing to open a peanut shell to find the tasty nuts inside. This afternoon, while preparing food for the birds, I
put a walnut in Miguel's dish. Bessie seemed interested, so I gave her one. It took her a long while to make a hole in the shell, but it
wasn't long after she had the nut completely devoured.
Bessie has a huge vocabulary and, unfortunately, has passed some of her more colorful words onto Miguel. But they're
just words, so I don't care (just so long as nobody wants to wash my mouth out with soap).
Prior to her move with me, it had taken me more than two years to even hold Bessie on my hand to transfer from her cage to her aviary (previously I used a broom handle because she likes the taste of human flesh... and bacon). Since she's been with me, she's become quite affectionate and loves to be cuddled and kissed.
So I guess she can stay. I don't have to ask mom if I can keep her.