This is a very, very, long post, but maybe a couple insomniacs will read it. Also be warned, no happy endings.
I was in my mid/ late 20s living in Calgary newly single and a homebody. I had a ‘thing’ for birds and was determined to get a feathered companion. So after much research I felt that I could meet the needs of a member of the Poicephalus family and life would be grand.
I found a lovely Breeder in New Brunswick and she shipped a sweet little Sennie girl out to me.
The day we met is very vivid in my mind. When I arrived home from the airport I was very nervous because she hadn’t made a peep and I couldn’t really see into her crate. When I opened the front of it she took what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds to poke her little head out into the light. That was all she needed. She straightened herself up and took a few exploratory steps and calmly looked around. I was surprised and delighted by her confidence. When she decided her new digs were adequate she took a couple steps towards me, looked at me with those gorgeous dark baby eyes and her big smiley beak face and lifted her foot to step up! I was immediately owned....I ache to feel those little toes gripping my finger again.
We soon developed a routine. I wanted her in her cage as little as possible so I just incorporated her into my everyday life. A typical day would go like this; We’d share breakfast then I would go to work. When I got home I opened the cage and she got herself out then we had some face time. Next I would putter around and she would join me. She was always very curious about whatever I was doing. Unless of course I was doing something horrendously terrifying like sweeping! then she would stay safely on her play top and scold her toys until I was done. If I was chopping vegetables she would supervise and be in charge of sampling. We would eat and then chill on the couch. When she tired of helping me get rid of the buttons on my laptop she would request some head scritches. Then she would climb to my shoulder, puff up, and grind her beak. Sure the sound of the ocean, can be relaxing, but to me, the most soothing sound is the grinding beak of a sleepy bird. We both felt content , and the best part was, I knew I had it good.
I originally gave her what I thought was a ‘sweet’ name but it was a bit, too sweet... cuz...’that dame had moxie.’ She often said Mmme me, me me me meee when trying to talk to me so her name became Mimi. I thought it suited her.
It’s funny, they tell you to talk to your bird and they will learn to speak, what really ended up happening is she would talk and I ended up imitating her! (But she was clearly the superior species so it’s to be expected) It was pretty funny and we both enjoyed that game.
She was sweet, curious, bold, fearless, affectionate, opinionated, intelligent and manipulative. And she was my dear friend for 5 wonderful years.
The terrible twos came, and it was tough but I it was a good thing. We became better at communicating and my admiration for her increased...
There was a turning point in our relationship I won’t ever forget; She was going through a chompy phase and the advice I read was to blow on them - so I did- it didn’t work. Then I read to give them no reaction at all, -no difference. So one day I stuck my finger in front of her so she could step up. I am not sure what exactly she was feeling at that moment, I am sure, however, that I wasn’t paying attention. I had brought home a favourite treat, a pomegranate probably, and the only thing on my mind was ‘she’s gonna love this!’ And I wanted her to come pester me while I cut it up...CHOMP! I pulled my hand back, looked at her and just told her how I felt. I didn’t squawk or flap or anything I just blurted out ‘Why do you have to be like that?’...or something similar, I don’t remember precisely. Then I turned away(sulked) to go do something else. And, to my amazement, she was....Sorry! She squawked her little squawk as I walked away and when I turned around to look at her (like she had trained me to do) she kinda hung her head and took a couple steps towards me. It was different than the request for scritches and it was the only apology I ever received. But she rarely bit me after that. (If any new bird person has read this far, please note, I am not saying if your bird does something you don’t like simply explain how you feel and they will stop. )
This incident showed me her intentions, she wasn’t being mean and she did care. I gained even more respect for the depth of her little birdie feelings and was therefore more mindful of them. Also it was, I believe, around this point that I stopped laughing when she scolded me; it wasn’t cute anymore, it was her, sharing her feelings, and that’s kinda amazing.
So Life was good and I moved to Saskatchewan and I met a good man. The whole wedding thing and moving in to his house lead to a couple weeks of plucking on her part and some guilt on mine. But things quickly settled down and She once again was the centre of the universe so it never became a habit. With my husband we could hold hands or a quick peck on the cheek as long as she was on the opposite shoulder. If I wasn’t around she was happy to go to him.
My grandma lived with us for a couple years too. She had dementia and just couldn’t learn a new concept like ‘you can’t treat a bird like a dog’ and as a result Mimi hated my Grandma and my Grandma resented Mimi.
The November after we were married my dad came down from BC for a visit. My Dad was kind, eccentric and would do anything for you. He went for a drive one morning and I got a phone call, ‘your dad is in the Universality Hospital,...he tried to kill himself.’ Mom came down and took him home and got him professional help. One doctor said he had some sort of atypical bipolar situation. Another said he was fine. Dad chose to believe the later and as a result, on January 21 he succeeded in ending his life. My mom was devastated.
I flew home to support Mom. My husband asked if he should come. No I said, just look after Mimi. She usually traveled well but this wasn’t a trip for her. And thanks to his good care she didn’t pull her feathers (to my great relief) and was happy to see me when I got home. It was a dark and hazy time for me and I don’t remember much but I do remember Mimi was surprisingly forgiving even though I was very depressed and just going through the motions of life. She was my sweetie.
One day that same year, late spring or early summer I went out of town overnight to pick up some livestock.....Now I should probably point out that back when I first got Mimi, the loudest voices on the internet said ‘if you love your bird you will clip their wings’, there were whispers of being able to keep a bird fully flighted but that wasn’t the conventional wisdom. Now, it seems, the loudest voices say ‘if you love your bird you won't clip their wings.’ I did not enjoy taking flight from her so I would just clip the outer 2 feathers. It gave her mobility and, I hoped, it would keep her safe. The problem is, they grow back when you aren’t looking. Anyway, I was on my way back from Alberta with my tiny stock trailer full. I was literally thinking to myself ‘it’s getting time, I should probably clip her... but I don’t want to..’ when I got the phone call....It was my husband, ‘Mimi got out the door, I’ve been looking, I can’t find her.’ ...I felt ill.
I arrived home before night fall and we stomped around in the rain calling and calling, begging really ... nothing. My husband checked with our neighbours, we didn’t have many. I Left notices in the surrounding post offices. Nothing.
We had hawks and owls. I think she died that first night. She was lost, terrified and alone as I lay on my bed full of dread and helplessness. Her bright colours and complete lack of ‘street smarts’ made her easy prey. She should be on my shoulder now enjoying middle age. She shouldn't have died till she was at least 30 and I should have been by her side. It should have been peaceful, not violent. It has been 10 years.
Sometime afterward I read about beaded doorways and clear shower curtains with slits cut in them I sobbed when I read about it. I would have done that had I thought of it. Why didn’t I think of it.
Mimi died because I sat on the fence. She was neither flighted nor clipped.
Since then I have had a daughter who is now 8, we moved to Nova Scotia and my beloved grandmother passed away. I have grieved for my father and grandmother in a healthy and textbook kind of way. Not that I don’t miss them but I have dealt with it. With Mimi however I seem to be stuck.
So now I am asking myself; What is my motivation for sharing this with strangers?.... I am not looking for absolution, I don’t believe anyone else can give that to me.
When my dad died, people would often tell me ‘I’m so sorry about your Dad. I just don’t know what to say.’ My response was always, ‘That is ok. I really don’t know what I want to hear. But thank you.’ I really don’t know what I want to hear now either. I think I just need to share her story with bird people. Non-bird people too often think birds are like talking goldfish with feathers and I find myself trying to justify my grief.
Sorry for the length of this post! If you read this far thank you very much for your time!
. He would sing the whole ride. When we got to our destination I was letting him out for some stretches, food and water. Welcoming him to our new home. 
