When I was visiting friends in Australia there were all of the beautiful birds there and I saw rose breasted toos there and I swore I would get one when I got back. Instead of the too I found Lucy and it was love at first sight.
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How did you get into birds?
- Thread starter Birdlover
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My mother had them as a child, carried through to when I was a child and now my children. My mother had many different species. My first very own was my English Budgie, Otis, who I got as a 16 year old, he moved away from home with me and into my marriage. More birds followed.
itzmered
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I have always had cats and dogs. We lost our beloved cocker spaniel 3 years ago to old age and I decided that I didn't want another dog or cat. I have always loved visiting with the birds in the pet shops and dreamed of having a B&G. I have a relative that has been a breeder in northern CA for 30+ years and always enjoyed seeing all of her birds when we visited there. I started research parrots and visiting all of the pet stores in the area so I could actually see what the different ones were like. I dragged DH along several times and we decided we wanted a sun conure. I then found a breeder in our area that had babies and we bought Tango.
Oh my gosh, I am laughing out loud right now. Our poor budgies we had. They must have been so terrified of me. I just wanted to hold them, I couldn't understand why they would fly away. I would let them fly all around the bedroom and they would get up on the curtain rods....I tried to tame my budgies in the bathroom too but I clipped their wings so they would stop flying away from me!
Oh and then when I realized they could still fly sometimes so I would bathe them before trying to befriend them, because then they could fly even less.
I'll bet you never imagined, when you were so afraid, that you would have a macaw of your own!!!
TwoG2s
Jogging around the block
That is how it happened with me, also! I don't think in my hearts of hearts that I am even a pet person.
But my inability to say "no" combined with the desire to help anyone in need; resulted in the menagerie that I have today.
I have had more personable colorful birds than The G2s over the past 35 years who I have loved; but not like The G2s.
Cockatoos need you in a way unlike any other parrot. Their need makes me fiercely protective of them; which is why my foster birds found a forever home with me.
JLcribber
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We got married in 1982 and shortly thereafter found out we could not have children. I always loved birds as a child but was never allowed to have one. If we couldn't have children we were going to get a bird.
We got a cockatiel that we named "Scummo" in 1982. He was 15 weeks old. He grew to be fully flighted, recall trained (never outside) and never even saw a cage his whole life. He started in a 12ft x 12ft bedroom. Within a year the whole house was his domain. He was very tame only in certain ways. He would snuggle under my chin. Preen my mustache. Ride with me everywhere. Sit on your arm but you could not touch him with your hands, ever. If he was up on the 3rd floor of the old house we were in and I yelled "supper time". He flew down a 3 flight spiral staircase on his own, through the hallway and into the kitchen. After dinner he went back up that same 3 flight twisting stairs. He was an amazing flyer. He could stop in mid air, turn around and fly back the way he came from.
He died in late 2004 of old age. I had never touched him with my hands his whole life. He went to the vet twice in his life. Because he was such a free spirit, the first vet visit was very traumatic (3 years old) He almost killed himself struggling and fighting. My vet said that unless we had a life threatening situation, not to bring him back. He was a text book specimen.
At about 20 years old he had an accident with his wing. That was the second visit. The vet commented on how quick and strong he was for such an old bird. After the x-ray for his wing, When the vet let him go he turned around and started to repeatedly attack him. He was furious and not one bit scared. The sore wing was suddenly not sore anymore.
His original name was Woodstock. That lasted for about 2 weeks. Scummo was much more fitting for the little rascal. If we were eating pasta he would fly down and land right in the middle of your plate and start chowing down and get all scummed up.
Scummo was an expert at hiding and camouflaging himself. He would fly into a room and go sit up against something and become motionless. I'm telling you he disappeared. His coloring and the way he would sit against things, he could blend perfectly. It's like he knew his colors. He would whistle and sing while you were out of sight. If you entered the room he would become silent and motionless. He would literally disappear. The second you left he would whistle and tease you again.
He really liked the laundry room. That was his favorite because of all the colors and shelves. He was sitting right in front of my face somewhere but I could not find him unless he moved or made a noise, which he never did. I have spent 30 minutes in a room looking for him. (begging for him to show himself)
On the night he died we had dinner and went to watch the news on the couch just like always. We knew he was getting old and a bit feeble. ( This video was made at 7pm that night) I was watching the TV with my hands in my lap and not paying attention. He walked up my leg and sat down in my hands. I was in total shock. We cuddled for about 10 minutes. He looked up at me, made a little squeak, his head tilted back and his heart stopped.
I still miss him. It took me a long to write this and I'm dripping on the keyboard again. God bless my little buddy. He was cremated and lives in an urn on the mantle.
We got a cockatiel that we named "Scummo" in 1982. He was 15 weeks old. He grew to be fully flighted, recall trained (never outside) and never even saw a cage his whole life. He started in a 12ft x 12ft bedroom. Within a year the whole house was his domain. He was very tame only in certain ways. He would snuggle under my chin. Preen my mustache. Ride with me everywhere. Sit on your arm but you could not touch him with your hands, ever. If he was up on the 3rd floor of the old house we were in and I yelled "supper time". He flew down a 3 flight spiral staircase on his own, through the hallway and into the kitchen. After dinner he went back up that same 3 flight twisting stairs. He was an amazing flyer. He could stop in mid air, turn around and fly back the way he came from.
He died in late 2004 of old age. I had never touched him with my hands his whole life. He went to the vet twice in his life. Because he was such a free spirit, the first vet visit was very traumatic (3 years old) He almost killed himself struggling and fighting. My vet said that unless we had a life threatening situation, not to bring him back. He was a text book specimen.
At about 20 years old he had an accident with his wing. That was the second visit. The vet commented on how quick and strong he was for such an old bird. After the x-ray for his wing, When the vet let him go he turned around and started to repeatedly attack him. He was furious and not one bit scared. The sore wing was suddenly not sore anymore.
His original name was Woodstock. That lasted for about 2 weeks. Scummo was much more fitting for the little rascal. If we were eating pasta he would fly down and land right in the middle of your plate and start chowing down and get all scummed up.
Scummo was an expert at hiding and camouflaging himself. He would fly into a room and go sit up against something and become motionless. I'm telling you he disappeared. His coloring and the way he would sit against things, he could blend perfectly. It's like he knew his colors. He would whistle and sing while you were out of sight. If you entered the room he would become silent and motionless. He would literally disappear. The second you left he would whistle and tease you again.
He really liked the laundry room. That was his favorite because of all the colors and shelves. He was sitting right in front of my face somewhere but I could not find him unless he moved or made a noise, which he never did. I have spent 30 minutes in a room looking for him. (begging for him to show himself)
On the night he died we had dinner and went to watch the news on the couch just like always. We knew he was getting old and a bit feeble. ( This video was made at 7pm that night) I was watching the TV with my hands in my lap and not paying attention. He walked up my leg and sat down in my hands. I was in total shock. We cuddled for about 10 minutes. He looked up at me, made a little squeak, his head tilted back and his heart stopped.
I still miss him. It took me a long to write this and I'm dripping on the keyboard again. God bless my little buddy. He was cremated and lives in an urn on the mantle.
well, I have always been facinated with birds.. They were elusive and amazing.. lol as a young kid my grandfather told me that I could catch one of the robins outside if I put salt on its tail... :hehe I think I was about 3 or 4 and went through a box of salt haha. well then one of my best friends got a cockatiel and (thinking back I felt bad for the poor thing) but we loved him. I moved away later and when I was a freshmen in HS my aunt's budgies had babies. I wanted one, but mom said "no!" luckily my aunt and grandma lives quite a wase away and the morning before we left my aunt brought her last baby over with cage/books/toys/everything.. and said here ya go! My first bird Sprite, I was so excited! I later found out it was mostly because I wanted one, but revenge on my mom when she bought my cousin a mouse and set up without her knowing!! lol
Exactly the way you shouldn't get into them...via ignorance!
I saw an interview with Dr. Pepperberg about African Grey's and went out and got one without doing any research or preparation because I got it into my head that a grey would make the perfect classroom pet to inspire my students.
Well, it all ended well, but that one decision sure has changed me whole world around!
I saw an interview with Dr. Pepperberg about African Grey's and went out and got one without doing any research or preparation because I got it into my head that a grey would make the perfect classroom pet to inspire my students.
Well, it all ended well, but that one decision sure has changed me whole world around!
That makes two of us. And I 100% agree it did change my whole world around but it was an amazing change
This made me cry. What a great story. The most poignant part for me was that he sat on your hands after all those years. I think it was incredibly respectful of you not to push to touch him all that time, not many people could do that. When he was ready, he let you touch him.We got married in 1982 and shortly thereafter found out we could not have children. I always loved birds as a child but was never allowed to have one. If we couldn't have children we were going to get a bird.
We got a cockatiel that we named "Scummo" in 1982. He was 15 weeks old. He grew to be fully flighted, recall trained (never outside) and never even saw a cage his whole life. He started in a 12ft x 12ft bedroom. Within a year the whole house was his domain. He was very tame only in certain ways. He would snuggle under my chin. Preen my mustache. Ride with me everywhere. Sit on your arm but you could not touch him with your hands, ever. If he was up on the 3rd floor of the old house we were in and I yelled "supper time". He flew down a 3 flight spiral staircase on his own, through the hallway and into the kitchen. After dinner he went back up that same 3 flight twisting stairs. He was an amazing flyer. He could stop in mid air, turn around and fly back the way he came from.
He died in late 2004 of old age. I had never touched him with my hands his whole life. He went to the vet twice in his life. Because he was such a free spirit, the first vet visit was very traumatic (3 years old) He almost killed himself struggling and fighting. My vet said that unless we had a life threatening situation, not to bring him back. He was a text book specimen.
At about 20 years old he had an accident with his wing. That was the second visit. The vet commented on how quick and strong he was for such an old bird. After the x-ray for his wing, When the vet let him go he turned around and started to repeatedly attack him. He was furious and not one bit scared. The sore wing was suddenly not sore anymore.
His original name was Woodstock. That lasted for about 2 weeks. Scummo was much more fitting for the little rascal. If we were eating pasta he would fly down and land right in the middle of your plate and start chowing down and get all scummed up.
Scummo was an expert at hiding and camouflaging himself. He would fly into a room and go sit up against something and become motionless. I'm telling you he disappeared. His coloring and the way he would sit against things, he could blend perfectly. It's like he knew his colors. He would whistle and sing while you were out of sight. If you entered the room he would become silent and motionless. He would literally disappear. The second you left he would whistle and tease you again.
He really liked the laundry room. That was his favorite because of all the colors and shelves. He was sitting right in front of my face somewhere but I could not find him unless he moved or made a noise, which he never did. I have spent 30 minutes in a room looking for him. (begging for him to show himself)
On the night he died we had dinner and went to watch the news on the couch just like always. We knew he was getting old and a bit feeble. ( This video was made at 7pm that night) I was watching the TV with my hands in my lap and not paying attention. He walked up my leg and sat down in my hands. I was in total shock. We cuddled for about 10 minutes. He looked up at me, made a little squeak, his head tilted back and his heart stopped.
I still miss him. It took me a long to write this and I'm dripping on the keyboard again. God bless my little buddy. He was cremated and lives in an urn on the mantle.
[
JLcribber
@cockatoojohn
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Now I have a lump in my throat again too.
TwoG2s
Jogging around the block
Your pen imbues your words with emotion and thought, young grasshopper.Now I have a lump in my throat again too.
You touched my
again!
What awesome stories!!
If you were on the other place/site my story is old but true---
Growing up we lived in an apartment and apart from the odd frog or snake or fish (I was a great smuggler) we had few pets. There was a poor budgie that Dad had won at a carnival where you threw quarters and if it landed on the dish you got the bird. Very understandably, after being shunted everywhere, had people not only yelling but throwing coins at them "2bits" was not a friendly fellow and managed to tear Dad's hands at feeding time. In an effort, to be nicer we went to the local 5 and 10 and purchased another "keet" as a companion. Neither bird survived long and to my shame they were not greatly mourned.
Eons later, my Dad and I decided that a canary would be a nice companion for my Mom who was rapidly showing signs of dementia. We went to a city store that had "specialized" in singing canaries for over 50 years presuming that they knew all about birds. I selected a bird from about 200+ and the owner(and breeder) picked out a small cage, with plastic perches all the same size, all seed food, gravel paper, and the only right thing a cuttlebone!!
Herbie as Mom named "him" was a fine singer. But basically, although I talked to him, there wasn't alot of interaction. I guess it was as if Herbie was a windup toy--clean it, feed it, and it will sing.
Then after months, one day I approached Herbie because he was screaming banging and frantically climbing up and over the cage. ??? Then I realized Mom had forgotten to clean or feed him. I started to pay more attention after I woke up to the fact that this was an intelligent creature that was communicating. I began to notice when I left the house and said goodbye to Herbie "he replied" right back. After I joined a canary board I slowly changed the poor conditions and diet I had ignorantly sentenced him to( Herbie suffered pressure point sores that were fixed but the all seed diet sadly shortened his life)..
Herbie would do absolutely ANYTHING for food or attention so it took only a week to handtame "him". He rang a bell to have me applaud, would scream for scambled eggs, could count to three, and I had to get up before 10.31am or face punishment.
Herbie had quirks and only bathed in the water cup, taken outside sang to airplanes, and had a 15 minute fit the time voices were raised. The love and respect that Herbie engendered in me I guess were reciprocated when Herbie took me as mate. Yes, although Herbie was a good singer with nice trills and rolls, my Herbie was all hen. The worst nest builder --but a wonderful, joyful bird.
Everytime, I think about Herbie I have a tear in my eye and a smile on my face. Herbie taught me so many things----a love for birds, but even more so to keep yourself open to the unexpected-_that the littlest creature can form a deep and profound bond.
If you were on the other place/site my story is old but true---
Growing up we lived in an apartment and apart from the odd frog or snake or fish (I was a great smuggler) we had few pets. There was a poor budgie that Dad had won at a carnival where you threw quarters and if it landed on the dish you got the bird. Very understandably, after being shunted everywhere, had people not only yelling but throwing coins at them "2bits" was not a friendly fellow and managed to tear Dad's hands at feeding time. In an effort, to be nicer we went to the local 5 and 10 and purchased another "keet" as a companion. Neither bird survived long and to my shame they were not greatly mourned.
Eons later, my Dad and I decided that a canary would be a nice companion for my Mom who was rapidly showing signs of dementia. We went to a city store that had "specialized" in singing canaries for over 50 years presuming that they knew all about birds. I selected a bird from about 200+ and the owner(and breeder) picked out a small cage, with plastic perches all the same size, all seed food, gravel paper, and the only right thing a cuttlebone!!
Herbie as Mom named "him" was a fine singer. But basically, although I talked to him, there wasn't alot of interaction. I guess it was as if Herbie was a windup toy--clean it, feed it, and it will sing.
Then after months, one day I approached Herbie because he was screaming banging and frantically climbing up and over the cage. ??? Then I realized Mom had forgotten to clean or feed him. I started to pay more attention after I woke up to the fact that this was an intelligent creature that was communicating. I began to notice when I left the house and said goodbye to Herbie "he replied" right back. After I joined a canary board I slowly changed the poor conditions and diet I had ignorantly sentenced him to( Herbie suffered pressure point sores that were fixed but the all seed diet sadly shortened his life)..
Herbie would do absolutely ANYTHING for food or attention so it took only a week to handtame "him". He rang a bell to have me applaud, would scream for scambled eggs, could count to three, and I had to get up before 10.31am or face punishment.
Herbie had quirks and only bathed in the water cup, taken outside sang to airplanes, and had a 15 minute fit the time voices were raised. The love and respect that Herbie engendered in me I guess were reciprocated when Herbie took me as mate. Yes, although Herbie was a good singer with nice trills and rolls, my Herbie was all hen. The worst nest builder --but a wonderful, joyful bird.
Everytime, I think about Herbie I have a tear in my eye and a smile on my face. Herbie taught me so many things----a love for birds, but even more so to keep yourself open to the unexpected-_that the littlest creature can form a deep and profound bond.
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JLcribber
@cockatoojohn
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Great story Pat. I can tell it came right from you're heart. Very touching. I think birds are sent to us for a purpose. They open even the toughest hearts.
What awesome stories.
For my my grandparents always had 1 budgie. I always was intrigued. Well after my grandfather died, he was living with his daughter they asked me if I wanted their cockatoo, it was an umbrella. I was probably 12 or so. I took her in but obviously didnt know what I was doing. I found a bird rescue that took her in and found her a wonderful home.
After that I had to learn all I could, couldnt stop, did research like crazy and now I am hooked. Couldnt imagine life without them. I just wish I did the research when I had our cockatoo so she would still be with me today.
One day, another too will join my flock
For my my grandparents always had 1 budgie. I always was intrigued. Well after my grandfather died, he was living with his daughter they asked me if I wanted their cockatoo, it was an umbrella. I was probably 12 or so. I took her in but obviously didnt know what I was doing. I found a bird rescue that took her in and found her a wonderful home.
After that I had to learn all I could, couldnt stop, did research like crazy and now I am hooked. Couldnt imagine life without them. I just wish I did the research when I had our cockatoo so she would still be with me today.
One day, another too will join my flock
I love reading all these stories. John, your story about Scummo brought tears to my eyes. What a wonderful life he had with you. Thanks to everyone for sharing. Keep these stories coming, please.
Cynthia & Percy
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since I was a child I was into bird watching but not keeping birds
It took a room mate of mine to see two white birds in his dreams for me to care for while he was gone well we studied birds and thought I wanted some finches then I wanted something a little more interactive so got Percy from the bird club the rest is history it is funny how his dream came true with two white birds a fitting legacy because he is dead now but my love for birds continues
It took a room mate of mine to see two white birds in his dreams for me to care for while he was gone well we studied birds and thought I wanted some finches then I wanted something a little more interactive so got Percy from the bird club the rest is history it is funny how his dream came true with two white birds a fitting legacy because he is dead now but my love for birds continues
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