Curbing the Chirp

The cage cover went on and silence reigned in the bird room. Sure, this happens to my big boys, but it happens more often to Alex, the little pacific parrotlet. I find that my big birds scream once or twice, then when mommy doesn't become the whirling demon of headaches, quiet down and go back to being good boys. In fact, they usually pronounce themselves a "good boy" or a "pretty bird" once all is quiet. Alex is different.

He chirps just to hear himself make noise. And I call it a chirp because it is a high-pitched, designed to make your eardrums bleed, chirp. Something like a lovebird's noise, but a bit quieter.

I found myself developing a love/hate relationship with this little guy, and knew this had to be stopped. Otherwise, one of us would end up with a new home, and it wouldn't be me.

Instead of deciding that all the blame had to rest with Alex, I looked at what I was doing to cause the behavior. I found a few things. First, I immediately covered him up to silence his chirping, thereby rewarding him with attention and positively reinforcing his behavior. Secondly, I sat at my computer and typed, the clicking of the keys sounding like music to his ears, and he only wanted to sing along. He also chirped when I opened the plastic feed bags, but parrotlets are known to have love affairs with plastic bags, and once I finished what was left over in the bag, I'd be feeding out of the canisters where the majority of the bird food was kept, so that issue would be null in a few weeks anyway.

So, I looked to modify my behavior. What could I do to teach Alex good manners?

I couldn't give up feeding him, and I couldn't give up typing, so this left me with the covering. Because of his small stature, Alex often stayed inside his cage while my big boys sat on top of theirs. I'd affectionately given him the nickname of "appetizer" because of my fear of what would happen if he flew off the top of his cage, which he is want to do at times.

Then, I remembered his basket. A cheap wicker basket had always sat on the edge of my desk. With the handle marked with the signs of a curious beak, it had been where my little birds spent their time.

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