The Parrotlet Father

Murphee and Mira sit close together. Gently, he reaches over and preens the back of Mira's neck. She turns her head, silently begging him to get the itchy spots. After a few minutes she returns the favor. All of this happens on a quiet night in my aviary. Right now, Murphee and Mira are on a well-deserved rest, for they just completed the family cycle.

For parrotlets, the father started the process by investigating the nest box. He hopped inside, rummaging around in the fresh pine shavings. I heard him as he clattered against the walls, scraping his beak to mark his territory. Once he felt safe, he enticed Mira inside. She must have found the home to her liking, for she, too, began to craft a slight hollow in the shavings. Eggs soon followed.

Murphee became the model father. He sat on the perch outside his nestbox, looking for predators. He'd watch me warily as I placed fresh food and water into his cage. Once I had stepped a good distance away, he'd jump down from his perch to gobble up eggfood. Then, he'd jump back into the nestbox to feed his mate. He did this the entire 21 days she incubated the clutch, for the female parrotlet rarely ventures outside the next box.

At night, I'd see Murphee jump into the nestbox. When I peeked, I saw him sleeping next to Mira, cuddled next to her. Sometimes they cooed while they slept, their birdy dreams being voiced in the night.

Then one day I heard tiny peeps coming from inside the nestbox. I knew the eggs had hatched. At first, Murphee continued his routine, but as more chicks hatched and grew older, his life took on an almost frantic pace. He'd be calmly sitting on the perch outside the nestbox, sometimes ducking his head inside to check on Mira, then the cries started. A man on a mission, Murphee would jump down from his perch, race over to the food dish as fast as his parrotlet legs could carry him, and gobble up the food. Seeds, egg food, cuttlebone, birdy bread, the type of food really didn't matter. Gorged, he'd race back inside to feed the hungry babies, or worse yet, his hungry mate. The routine would repeat itself until night, when he would crawl inside the nextbox to sleep with his wife and kids.

If allowed, Murphee would continue this fatherly devotion for the six weeks it took to fledge parrotlet chicks. I'm sure he breathed a sigh of relief when I removed his children for handfeeding, blocked off the nestbox, and let them have a well-deserved rest. In a few months, I'll open the nestbox back up, and Murphee will be a devoted father once more.

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