The Cocky 'Tiels Go to the Vet

I take all of my birds to a wonderful avian vet, about 45 minutes away from where I live (no avian vet nearer). This vet also donates veterinarian time, surgical expertise, and advice when injured birds and other animals arrive at Wildlife Images.

It was the two cockatiels' turn this time: just a toenail trim for Chipper, and a check-up for Charlie who had the luck of the draw in getting a periodical blood test to establish that his health continues as good as it's been. It's truly amazing how tiny the syringe needle is - it would have to be, to get into the tiny veins of a small bird.

They both appear to be in fine shape, weight is steady for both, and all survived just fine. But - whew! It's just as traumatic and exhausting for birds to see the vet as it is for us to see a doctor. As you can see, poor Chipper flaked out on the tree after he got home (it was an exceedingly quiet afternoon).

Getting Charlie to the vet requires a specific tactical maneuver. He was never hand-tamed as a baby - I think he was an aviary bird - and my attempts to hand train him failed when he first showed up. He's missing a toe, so there may be issues about hands and toes here. I managed to get him on my fingers consistently when his wings were clipped, but he was always scared spitless in the process and seemed traumatized after each session. He has a strong phobia of hands, though when he feels relaxed and excited to see me, he may even fly to my head, my hand, even occasionally on my fingers - IF Chipper is there also. And he will now take treats eagerly from my hand. (This is Charlie after the vet scene - he's a tired boy too.)

He will follow Chipper anywhere and will cry with distress if he's parted from him even across the room. So I use Chipper as my "Pied Piper," and once Chipper is inside a travel cage, Charlie ends up there too.

But I'm not really fussed if Charlie never ends up hand trained. He's very happy, free-flighted, dependable, and cheerful as they come. Hey, hands aren't everything, anyway.

Beady Little Eyes

I have four pairs of beady little eyes always watching to see what I'm doing, what I'm up to.

Sam keeps watch intently, and like a little watch dog, will alert me with growls at anything he feels is threatening - such as a small stuffed dog half his size that was sitting on top of a shelf.

The other reason alertness is good is that Sam is ever hopeful I will walk into the kitchen and bring back some tempting morsel that is not a pellet. Ahem! (This shot of Sam also shows that he is soliciting a head rub, looking really cute and irresistible - and it always works...)

Chipper, on the other hand, often is more subtle in his watching.

If you look closely, you will see that Chipper's eye is right on me. Behind the basket is his favorite perch on the tree. He has purposely chewed a hole through the basket so that he can keep an eye on me - and anyone else.

Chipper and His Favorite Objet d'Art

On my living room wall is this framed display box, containing all kinds of natural treasures: flicker and raven feathers, Chipper's baby feathers, Pippin's eggs, seashells, eucalyptus pods, cacti spines, fossilized seashells found 2500 feet on top of a desert mountain, pretty moss, etc, etc.

For some reason, Chipper just loves hanging out on top of it and around it.

He will spend minutes at a time on my hand, looking at the contents of each square, sometimes commenting, licking the glass with his funny round tongue.

Chipper is on the frame here, to the right, and Charlie - never to be apart from Chipper for long - has joined him on his left.

After spending quality time with the frame, both boys decided to visit with Pippin while she was working on her sleep nest (inside a boutique sized tissue box). It's quite cozy in there with shredded seagrass fibers, and shredded paper. She quite an industrious little girl.


And so, another birdie weekend afternoon passes: mellow, hanging-out time had by all.

Ride 'em Cowboy - and Other Capers

Chipper has a way of exploring all the nooks and crannies of the house. He, like Pippin, loves to find boxes and be nesty. He has to have a job every day, and chewing paper and wood - and exploring - suit him fine. He discovered this ceramic horse on the fireplace mantle and kept returning to it. Ride 'em, Cowboy Chipper!

On another front, Sam loves to get in his wooden play bowl that is kept on top of his cage. I will often hear him scratching about, look over, and find him bottom up.


Speaking of bottoms up, Pippin does a fine job of that too.

Then there are the times when the cockatiels take their baths. This comes in the form of a spray bottle with warm water. They love to take their bath on the big tree in the living room.

Here you will see them in the middle of becoming sopping wet, after which they will preen for quite awhile until they're fairly dry. They especially like sitting in the sun on such occasions (Chipper is bottom up in the background in this photo).

I wonder what it is about bottom up that is so appealing? Maybe seeing a different viewpoint is what it's all about. Hm. Good idea!

A Typical Weekend at Home

The jays buzz the cat in the meadow, calling raucously and continuously till the feline gets the message not to trespass the jay's territory.

The twin fawns seem to be in sync with just about every activity, including responding to unexpected noises. Hmm...what was that, anyway? (After all, everything is new to a fawn.)


And then at home, it's cage-cleaning time and that means everybody vacates, one at a time, his or her cage.

This is a shot of Pippin parked temporarily in the Wingabago travel carrier. Pippin is so small and such a seeker of small dark places to explore and make nests, that I can't leave her out unattended for long as it isn't safe.

But Sam, who was already out and about exploring, decided to check Pippin out (he does like her a lot). They had a little chat and then Sam continued his explorations.

The cockatiels also took the opportunity to explore the window sill and the outside activities. Not much happening out there except jays flying about and sun beating down - oof! It's supposed to reach upper 90s F today.

Baths were had by all and Chipper dried off on the tree.

Here he is relaxed and happy for the weekend!

Chipper the Ham

From the beginning, Chipper has been the most sociable and interactive member of my avian gang. If you've ever had a happy cockatiel in your life, just thinking about them - high-spirited, cheeky, loving, mischievous, personality-filled - will make you smile.

All happy male cockatiels have what I call The Strut: wings slightly lifted, head cocked, walk a bit stiff. It's hilarious and extremely endearing. You just know that the bird is showing off, with no apologies! (This video shows a bit of that particular state of being.)

Doesn't Chipper make you smile at his view of the world?

Chip and Pip

One more story about Pippin: Awhile ago, my roommate, to whom Pippin then belonged, was planning to return to her native UK. The only other bird member of the clan was Chipper to whom Pippin was extremely devoted. The feeling was mutual. I was wary of Pippin then because she was easily excitable and often bit me. For such a small bird, you'd think their bites would not be consequential, but 1. a lovebird's beak is large in proportion to its small body, and 2. lovebirds are intense creatures and bite before thinking.

For some odd reason - no doubt connected to an obscure emotional issue that is thankfully no longer present! - I'd burst into tears whenever she bit me, and lost my confidence in handling Pippin. I tearfully told my roommate I was afraid of Pippin (!) and didn't think I could care for her needs on my own.

Agonizing as it was, my roommate found a girl working at the local pet shop who had a flock of lovebirds at home that she loved, and the girl already knew Pippin and highly admired him (her). So Pippin was handed over to her with many tears and regrets. The girl thought Pip was a male and intended to breed her best female to Pip.

Within a couple of days, Chipper stopped eating through grief at losing his friend, and my roommate's plans changed after about a week. She was able to remain in the US after all. She tentatively asked the girl to whom Pip was given if she could retrieve Pip. The girl graciously obliged and added that Pippin never talked while she was with her, and that Pip hated the female and didn't get along at all! (Yeah, figures! She was a girl, after all...)

We drove up to the girl's house with Chipper in the back seat. As we brought Pippin to the car in her cage and opened the back door, Pippin saw Chipper and yelled: "CHIPPER!" And Chipper responded with extreme excitement and equal volume: "PIPPIN!" It was like watching one of those tear-jerker movies when the lovers reunite against impossible odds. Well, we were touched and did cry...

It was a happy ending: Chipper began eating again in earnest, and Pippin settled down happily with her favorite cockatiel next to her.

Running on Chipper-Time

Chipper, being the oldest member of his now-extended flock, has always been very clear about one thing: He’s in charge and he sets the day’s avian agenda.

He’s trained me very well. Since he can’t say everything in English, he uses the phrases he likes in order to tell me what he wants with varying intensity, emphasis, and volume. And he’s trained every other parrot in the house, except for Sam, to speak the same phrases in English. (Funny enough, he has refused to learn the word “NO.”)

Pippin the peach-faced lovebird fell under his spell soon after she came to live with me. She was hardly weaned and such a tiny being. At the time, we thought Pippin was a male (more later about the shocking discovery to the contrary). Most lovebirds don’t speak, and certainly females rarely speak. But not Pippin! Chipper had her saying the most important words of life: “Chipper!” and “Whatcha doin’ Chipper?” and “You be!” (shorthand for “You be good!”) For Pippin, Chipper could DO NO WRONG. (She has since come to see that Chipper in fact does have some shortcomings.)

Charlie No-Toe, under Chipper’s tutelage, speaks “Chipperese.” And sings, sings, sings. Rarely does Charlie imitate me anymore. No, if Chipper doesn’t say it, it isn’t worth repeating. Chipper doesn’t let on that he likes Charlie and has never called him by his name, but he’d be very sad indeed without Charlie’s company.

And so, I have three birds telling me at different times to “be good,” “see you later,” and they often ask me “whatcha doin’?” When I’m home, Chipper is always up for games and play, and will ask me “Do you wanna go?” – meaning, do you want to go chase me with my book? Or, if he feels especially daring, he may ask me, “Do you wanna go for a ride?” – meaning, do you want to let me sit on my book while you whisk me through the room?” And if Pippin is distressed about something, he will ask inquiringly, “What, Pippin?”

Bedtime is also another opportunity to be reminded that Chipper is in charge: he knows when he wants to go to bed and everyone feathered goes to bed at that time. He gets the nightly head-rub and then it’s: “Time to go to bed…Good night, little roo.” And so the day ends.