Another damn bird story........

A Dollar’s Worth

By Alisa Dollar

Another parakeet we had was adopted. I should’ve known better when friends said little bird needed a home with kids. What they had, but failed to mention, was a brat bird!

An albino bird with pretty white feathers and red rimmed eyes made me think she was a hung over, but overall, she was a striking chick.

It didn’t take long to realize why friends wanted to dump Chickie. She was a monster in the making. The only good thing is that she never tried to lay an egg (remember Cookie?)

Chickie loved freedom. She also loved to peck anything wood. She pecked the rims of windows, the arms of furniture, or the top of paneling. Chickie drove me nuts (which most times is a very short trip) when she’d roost on my glasses and pick-n-peck at my eyelashes. Why me?

Over time, we became attached to Chickie and her “ways” but I never really bonded with her because I thought she was too high maintenance and downright mean. When one of the kids heard me yell “Quit that!” they’d run to rescue Chickie. I know a bird doesn’t know how to taunt, but there were times I’d swear she smirked at me when they’d take her.

One day, son ran to me hollering to come quick or sister was going to kill Chickie. My first thought was if I hesitated just long enough, maybe she would complete the deed. However, my overactive mothering instinct pushed me to the kitchen immediately not wanting daughter to face the aftermath.

What I found was and still is, extremely funny. Daughter had decided to give Chickie a bath and thought she’d destroyed her ability to fly. Son explained he tried to tell her to put the bird back in the cage and she’d fly when she dried.

As she wailed, “But mommy look, Chickie really can’t fly.” She’d throw Chickie into the air and the poor bird kerplunked to the floor.

I have to admit it was pretty funny, but I could see daughter really was going to break feathers and all if I didn’t rescue Chickie.

We put Chickie in the cage and covered it with a towel and waited two hours.

Amazing! Chickie could fly and it wasn’t long till she was back to the busywork of destroying the edges of anything wood—and my eyelashes.

Saving her life must’ve meant something.

Chickie never smirked at me again.