Birds Might be Stupid

Maybe not all birds, and maybe not most parrots, but my bird - he's either a little stupid or very smart, or maybe I'm the stupid one - that's usually the case.

Just about every morning I bundle up in my sexy microfleece robe and I'm instantly warm and ready to work. It's become my Wonder Boys robe, only because I seem to never take it off, especially since we moved here.

Henry loves this robe - I *guess* because if I'm wearing it, it means I'm not going anywhere too soon. He wants me here at his beck and squawk at all hours of the day.

And usually my hair is down and a complete mess. Because if I'm going to schlub around the house in a robe all day, why on earth would I bother combing my hair? I can't be a crazy cat lady if I get dressed and GROOM myself. I have an image to maintain.

This morning was trash day - very exciting - and that means not only gathering up the trash, but scooping out the cat boxes so it's ALL gone and out of the house. To do this, I take off my cherished robe and put my hair up.

This is when Henry goes from being a goofy, loving pet bird to an insane, homicidal maniac who will kill me if I get too close.

The sweet pet bird sits happily on his tree with slightly fluffed feathers, chattering to no one in particular, then the maniac comes out with tail feathers splayed to full width, head feathers in the tell-tale triangle of death, wings pulled out from his sides and eyes pinning wildly while he makes an eerie trilling noise - the last noise you'll hear before he rips your jugular out of your neck.

When this transformation happens, I speak to him in quiet, soothing tones, go about my business and maintain as much distance as I can. He's been known to jump off the cage at me. Nothing more fun than dodging a crazed bird in mid-flight with a 1000lbs/psi beak coming right for you.

He kept up his menacing display while I finished the cat boxes & got the trash ready to take outside. I came back inside and thought I'd try a little experiment. I went to the bathroom to wash up, then I put the robe back on and took my hair down.

I came out and walked over to his cage and he was still prancing around like an idiot, but he immediately started talking to me instead of making that shitty noise that means he wants to see me dead.

I talked to him and kept my distance, but his attitude had instantly changed. He was still excited, but he was happy. A few minutes later, he was asking "do you wanna come out?" which means any/all of these things: I want to come out of my cage, I want whatever you're eating, I want to sit on your shoulder and look out the window, I'm in my cage with the door open but I've forgotten it's open - can you please let me out, or Those cats are really stupid and you should let them out - permanently.

He seems to know that if I'm wearing shoes I'll be leaving the house, even if I'm in the robe, if the shoes are on, he knows it's time to get into his padded cell and take his nap.

He seems to know if I'm putting things into a bag and zipping zippers, I'll be leaving the house. He's started making the zipper noise, maybe thinking I'll grab him along with the other stuff and take him with me.

What's really insane about all this is he's still just a baby - he's only 10. I have another 40 or 50 years (or so - we'll see how the vitamins do) to observe this strange creature and try to understand what's going on in that walnut-sized head. He's got another 70 years or so to learn fluent English so his next caretaker might have an easier time figuring him out.