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Musing About My Birds

© Mary Wilson

As I finished sweeping my bird room, something I do a lot now that I installed linoleum instead of carpet, I thought about why I keep my feathered children. I have had lots of pets over the years. Gerbils, guinea pigs, hamsters, fish, turtles, cats, and dogs, all passed through my presence. I never thought about birds until I lived on my own, and something tugged at me to purchase a parakeet. I feel in love and never looked back.

I grew up as a bird watcher. I remember sitting at the dining room table with my grandmother watching sparrows and robins play around the bird feeder. The appearance of a blue jay brought great joy, for only one pair roosted in our neighborhood. Later on, I learned to enjoy waking to the squabbling of starlings, and when I began to fill my own home with birds, this joy came inside with me.

Most evenings, I sit in my den, looking at my wall of fids. My pionus spend time outside their cage, talking or merely destroying more of a wooden toy. My cockatiel, cute in his "beaky" stage, like a toddler who wants to put everything in his mouth, runs around the top of his cage, trying everything in his beak. My parrotlet, Littlehawk, secure in the fact that he is loved, sits like a king on top of his cage.

Now in our home, we have three baby parrotlets. At three weeks old, their feathers have begun to open, leaving a bumbling little ball of green fluff. They get fed about four times a day and are beginning to try their beaks on more solid food.

As I look over my list of animals, I realize that I love my birds for the love they give me. Their gentle "pretty birds" fill my days with joy, and the sound of their cheeping lulls all the stress away. When I watch my finches in their cages, I am reminded of the antics of sparrows pecking at a full birdfeeder, and my parrots remind me that there truly is wonder in the world.