The word came from the back seat as I drove in the sunshine up Route 128 during rush hour with my convertible's top down, thankfully mostly against the heaviest traffic. The vocalist was my soon to be six year old macaw, Kizzy. "Love" is one of his favorite words to shout out. At night, when I am "putting him to bed" by saying good night and putting out the lights in the bird room, he gently whispers "Love" and makes kissy noises as I place a kiss on his big, strong beak. During the day his flock call often begins with "MAMA! MAMA!!!" in a loud gruff voice. He repeats it until I reply "What baby?" and then it comes -- "LOVE!" yelled like a Harley biker. Other times my neighbors are the recipients of the "Love" call, though sometimes it is enhanced to be "Love-BUG" or "love-BUUUUUGGGGGGGGG" called out the window and across the quiet suburban yards. Thankfully I have wonderful neighbors.
I peek in the rear view mirror to see my bundle of fluffy feathers happily hanging from a bar in his brass doggie crate carrier. He hangs from one toenail and lets the wind lift and ruffle his feathers. Almost like flying, I think, which is something he has never done. Closest thing to flying for him, at least at this point in his life. I would love him to learn how to fly someday. He closes his eyes and turns his precious little face to the sun, taking in the fresh air and movement. He is delighted. So are fellow travelers on 128 as we stop in traffic. I pretend not to notice people laughing and pointing at my silly boy in the back seat, or sometimes I just smile. Parrots have a way of bringing joy to the world unlike any other pet. So many smiles have come at his and his brothers', expense. They truly are little love machines. Which is why it is so funny that one of his favorite words IS love.
I never specifically taught him that word. Parrots pick up sounds and words that are important to them. I do not treat train my birds -- meaning I don't bribe them to do specific things for food. Instead, they are fed well and are happy doing what they like. Kizzy has several key words and phrases: water, mama, wow, what?, hmmm. Not as many as Hapi the Grey, but the many ways Kiz delivers each of these words is highly expressive. To look into that big gold eye and see thought taking place -- albeit slow thought with a macaw versus another type of parrot -- is to see a soul. A mystery. An incredible spirit packed in such vulnerable feathers, subjected to the whim and care of humans. It scares me on a daily basis to think what will happen to my birds when I am no longer here or are unable to care for them properly. Gives me motivation to stay healthy and strong, and to plan for their future, but also gives me a sick feeling in my gut to think they may fall into the wrong hands some day and feel pain, suffering, and uncomfortable captivity. They are too special for that.
So, as part of preparing for their next lives, when and wherever that might be, I am overlooking my camera shy nature and having professional photographs taken of me with each of my big, long lived birds. These photos will be part of their history. I'm doing the photos now as I can only look worse with age, and this is still the beginning of their long lives. The quakers are too little and fly too much for me to bring out for pictures, but Cairo, Hapi, and Kizzy, being the long-lived birds, will have a face for a human to connect with when the time comes. Believe me, those who know me know how much I hate images of myself, and have my whole life, so this is a big sacrifice on my part. My kids are worth it.
Last night we arrived at JC Penny's for the photo shoot. Kiz Jumped to my shoulder and we calmly walked through the store to get to the photo studio in the very back. People kept shopping or checking their phones, oblivious to a macaw in the store. I was grateful. He was a good boy during the photos, and on the way out we were not so anonymous -- five adorable little Hispanic kids with funky haircuts came running to the photo studio asking to hug Kizzy. They told me all about the clothes they were getting for an upcoming wedding and patted his tail. They were adorable. Then their mom, then two more adults, who couldn't speak English, wanted their pic taken with him. In the middle of JCP. One more mom and her teenage sons wanted pictures, then I had to escape. The poor bird got so nervous he pooped on the floor. As an experienced bird person, the wipes were out in a jiffy and the problem solved.
I get embarrassed when people gush over him in public, as it looks like it is ME that is seeking attention, which it most definitely is not. I also recognize, though, that this is part of his charm and he makes people happy. And sharing happiness is never a bad thing. The number of smiles my parrots have induced in others greatly outweighs anything I could do as a person. Whether it is driving around in the car, hanging out in the yard, or coming to school -- the birds have brought unexpected joy to others and are truly special gifts in any life. As hard and expensive as it is to keep these featherbutts in good care, it is worth every minute, because of the fun they provide, and because of the love. Kizzy doesn't just say "love," he, and the other birds, truly show it. And I am grateful.
What will you make today?