All the World is Charlie's Stage

All my parrots have certain activities they like more than others: Chipper likes to hang out/chew/have fun with his books; Pippin likes to nest or shred things; Sam likes to chew on his foot toys or forage for treats.

But Charlie! He likes most of all to SING!!!!! He came with about 5 "default" songs - mimics of wild bird calls very badly done - that used to drive me crazy. Fortunately, Chipper taught him better songs.

So now Charlie sings with zing.

Charlie also uses objects in his cage to amplify or "improve" the acoustics of certain trills - in this case a treat cup. When outside the cage, he uses the inside of stainless steel bells for special effects. Perhaps he knows these are special riffs that must be heard in the best way to be fully appreciated.

So, without further ado, heeeeeere's Charlie!

Charlie Molts

Charlie has decided that it is a good time to molt.

Lest you think I never vacuum (admittedly, not my favorite pasttime, but I do it every week!) this pile of feathers is just a two-day accumulation.

Everywhere I walk in the living room, there are little drifts of creamy gray cockatiel feathers and down clusters.

You'd think he would look rather tatty and nearly featherless, but he's got plenty left. While he is out of step with everybody else's molting period, I think he's got good timing. What better occasion to shed some extra warmth than during a heat wave?

Summer Siesta Time

Another hot summer day. While I paint and try to stay cool, all the birds take naps.

Chipper is molting heavily, so even when he's not napping, he's in "energy-saving mode."

Hope you've had a good weekend and that you've had enough siestas to power you through another week.

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.

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!

Preening as Group Therapy

With four birds in my home, a lot of preening gets done every day. I don't know how many feathers any of my parrots have individually, but an interesting factoid I found was that a bird may have as few as over 900 feathers (Ruby hummingbird) or as many as 25,000 (whistling swan in winter). Any way you look at it, that's a lot of feathers to care for.

Preening is what takes care of the feathers, besides taking a bath - which my birds do regularly. Even after bathing, preening is necessary to get the feathers properly groomed and maintained; to add oil to the feathers to keep them waterproof and insulated. In the wild, it also helps to remove parasites and debris. (You can see tiny bits of down and keratin here on Sam's head.)

And when birds are molting seasonally, it helps to remove the keratin sheathes that encase the new feathers. I've also read that it helps to strengthen relationships. That makes a lot of sense.


Whenever my birds preen, it is often "contagious" - that is, when one bird begins, usually everyone else follows suit. Group preening. It is one of the most soothing activities I've ever witnessed. Everybody quiets down to the focussed task of preening, and it can last for many minutes. I think it must be very important socially and emotionally for birds to preen in a group. Maybe it's the original group therapy. After all, birds have been around a lot longer than we have.

One of the unexpected side benefits to me is that whenever this preening business happens and I'm present, I get caught up in the quiet, almost meditative atmosphere. When everybody has finished with a nice stretch, I sigh and collect myself for the next task ahead. Ahhh....

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.

The Saga of Charlie No-Toe & a Demented Thyroid

The May 14, 08 post in Parrot Musings blog reminded me of Charlie No-Toe (named by my father because he lacks a toe). He came to my home when I wasn’t planning on adding a fourth parrot to my flock. This little gray cockatiel had been given to my Dad as a birthday gift. Charlie was store-bought and had never been handfed, so he was not tame. Judging by the wild bird calls he sang, I suspect he’d been raised outside in an aviary.

Unfortunately, being apart from his aviary mates and being all alone for the first time in his life seemed to shock Charlie into a catatonic state. All he would do is sit in front of his feed dish all day long and occasionally screech when he heard wild birds outside – probably in a desperate attempt to connect to his old flock. He was also malnourished.

I borrowed him from my Dad for awhile to see how he’d do with my flock of three. All were indifferent, as I guess Charlie’s wildness and lack of interaction marked him as different from what they were used to. So I placed Charlie’s cage next to me and talked to him whenever I was home. He liked the sound of my voice and began sitting closer to me. He was still quite in shock, though. Gradually, he began screeching as well as singing his wild bird songs that nearly drove me and my then-roommate crazy. That singing would in turn drive our other birds nuts as well. It would stir them up so that it was hard to think at home.

The situation escalated so much that I felt I had to give him up. I found a reputable, recommended refuge 2 ½ hours north that rehomed parrots, I made the arrangements, and then planned the trip. At the time I was experiencing a debilitating recurrence of Grave’s Disease (hyperthyroidism – and I mean, everything was hyper!) and was trying to avoid radioactive ablation or surgery by taking an anti-thyroid medication. But it wasn’t going well and I was starting to feel odd.

My roommate and I made the trip and brought him to the rescue place. The birds were truly well cared-for, but my heart had already been sinking with every mile we got closer to the rescue. And when I said goodbye to Charlie and he responded by singing a little whistle he had learned from me, my heart broke!

By the time I got home, two realizations

occurred: I had begun itching here and there on the drive home, until by the time I got home that evening, I’d broken out in a royal case of hives caused by the powerful drug I was taking; and I had burst into tears for the error I’d made in giving up Charlie. It was just wrong, wrong, wrong.

After a heart-to-heart talk with my roommate who hadn’t realized how attached I’d grown to Charlie, she nobly volunteered to make the long drive again to pick up Charlie and bring him home, since by that time I was one huge hive and could not be counted on to do anything but itch. By the time Charlie returned, I was in a virtual hell of discomfort; and Charlie was totally exhausted from his adventure. Benadryl numbed my itching a little, and Charlie and I, side by side, slept off and on for 2 days. It took a week for the hives to fully recede, and a full year for Charlie to blossom and become friends with Chipper. Charlie had come home to stay for good, and my crazed thyroid gland left home for good, surgically-speaking...

Chipper: Booklover & Literary Critic

Chipper learned quickly to speak English, his name being the first word, with variations: Chipperoo, Roo, etc.

He also loves to whistle, and has developed what I call his "signature song" - a catchy little ditty he created and sings when he's extremely happy and wants to be admired (which is most of the time).

But BOOKS are Chipper’s greatest passion. For a booklover, this is very gratifying. When Chipper was very young, I would often read a book with him on my shoulder. He observed that books seemed to draw a lot of my attention and that therefore, they must be important and very desirable. He began climbing down to the hand holding the book and croon and whistle to the book. Eventually, his passion got the best of him and he would begin “digesting” the book by chewing on the paper edges. Once I had the idea he liked books so much, I began giving him his own books from the baby picture book section of the bookstore. He had gotten through to me. He sang like he’d been given the key to heaven!

Currently, Chipper’s reading preference is Sandra Boynton’s Going to Bed Book, though he recently found the Magic Tree House series quite intriguing. He has also dipped into the Biscuit series books and still has a tattered copy of one of them. Nevertheless, Boynton’s book remains an all-time favorite that he keeps going back to, even after owning other stimulating books over the years. He’s gone through 4 of them in the last year. He even sleeps on an old cut-down version. I place it through the slats of his cage before he goes to bed, and he hops on it where he sleeps all night. Bedtime would not be the same without his book to sleep on. (You have to understand that parrots of all types are creatures of habit just like we are.)

He’s so attached to his book of choice that I have to bring it with him to the vet for routine visits. He won’t get out of his cage without his book. It’s his version of the Linus blanket/best playtoy of all.

My life with Chipper has never been dull.

Chipper of Chipper's Alley

Seven years ago, Chipper came to me as a very outgoing young cockatiel who had a strong drive to fearlessly explore everything around him. It’s hard to believe how much personality and cheer was wrapped up in that little bundle of feathers, but he became the center of my home, and still is.

I only had parakeets when I was younger and never really understood them to be small parrots. Cockatiels are also parrots that form large flocks in their native Australia. They are much larger than parakeets and experience an amazingly wide range of emotions, sensitivities, and a capacity for unbelievable antics and mischief. When raised with humans as young birds, they bond easily to their human companions, and with good care can live up to 20 years.

I learned quickly how intelligent and responsive these parrots are as I began to interact with Chipper daily. Being handfed as a baby, he was bonded with humans and expected only love and affection from them. He was one of those fortunate fellows who had never known a human to let him down or act inimically toward him. He still has the same trust as he had as a baby and always wakes up with a cheerful attitude.

What I learned is that Chipper is a sentient little being who is bursting with character, fearless to explore his surroundings, and always eager to express himself in song and chatter (in English) when he's happy. When I was young and had parakeets, I enjoyed and loved them, finger-trained one and became quite attached to one. But I had never tried to really understand what they might need from me. After all, caging birds is unnatural and can be very oppressive if they are left without sufficient stimulation, interaction, and good nutrition.

So Chipper fast became a very important part of my life. He was not just a pretty bird – an object to watch and laugh at – he remains my little companion and a joy. You will learn more about his literary pursuits in the next post.

(Mischief!: Chipper investigating my art paper with Charlie in backgound watching Chipper's tail for a fast get-away.)