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PARROT JOKES
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A robber broke into the house of a family just after they had left to
Relieved, the robber chuckled and said: "Hey, birdie! Let me
"Bwak... No," said the bird, "my name is Moses."
"Moses!?!" the robber wondered. "What kind of weirdos name their
"Bwak... The same weirdos that named their pitbull 'Jesus'."
FEATURED ARTICLE
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***** Touched By An Angel ******
By Sam Foster, Avian Consultant
An angel in pink...that's what she was. She brought joy to
I had been searching for a mature female Major Mitchell's
When arrangements were made for shipping the bird to Cairns,
At that time, we had one young bonded pair of Major Mitchell's,
but no plans to add any others to our breeding stock. After
speaking at length with the owner, it became apparent that he
truly had no interest in this baby and we agreed to purchase it
for $300 AUD. My intention was to have the young bird checked by
our avian vet, work with it until it was properly weaned and
socialized, then place it in a good home.
When the birds arrived at the airport, they both seemed highly
stressed by the ordeal, which involved a 2-hour drive to the
Adelaide airport, flying to Sydney, a lengthy layover, and
then the flight to northern Australia. We immediately took
the female to our friend, then drove the final 45 minutes home
with the beautiful pink baby loudly hissing in the carrier.
That was when I decided to call her Inca. Watching her display
with wings stretched and her magnificent crest of yellow and
brilliant orange reminded me of drawings of ancient Inca Indians.
Once home, we took her out and immediately discovered that she
was covered with lice. After ridding her of those unwelcome
intruders, we checked beak, toes, eyes, nose, etc. and put her
in a temporary cage to undergo quarantine.
She was very leery, watching our every move and hissing when
we offered food and water. I covered her cage early that night
knowing she was completely exhausted and needed sleep more
than anything at that stage.
The next morning she still wasn't eating well, so we decided
to make an appointment with our veterinarian as soon as possible.
Several times during the day I would open the door to her cage,
talking softly and encouraging her to come out. Although she
would not, the hissing finally stopped and she seemed to become
more curious about her new surroundings. Late that afternoon,
we heard a scream and found that she had part of her right wing
caught between the bars of the cage. She was attempting to pull
away from the side of the cage, but the last two primary
feathers on the outside tip of the wing were hung on the wire.
My husband opened the door, reached inside and gently lifted her
body, thus freeing the wing. She climbed to her perch and we
noticed that the right wing was drooping slightly. Needless to
say, we were very concerned. We watched her carefully throughout
the afternoon and evening and were relieved to see that she could
once again pull the wing to its normal position. After dinner,
I decided to take Inca out of the cage to get a better look at
the wing. I was delighted when she allowed me to pick her up by
gently wrapping a towel over her back and under her torso.
As I sat her on the floor beside her cage she lifted her wings,
raised her crest and let out a mighty screech she flapped across
the floor and attempted to hide behind a potted plant.
My husband picked up the young bird and handed her to me. As I
placed Inca in my lap, I felt a warm, sticky substance under
her wing. My husband said I started screaming, "Oh my God, she's
bleeding! I only remember that the next several hours were like
living in a nightmare. We lifted her wing to see where the blood
was coming from. At the juncture of the wing and the body, blood
spurted from a hole and a bone protruded from within the body
cavity. My husband grabbed the towel, wrapped Inca and began
gently applying pressure to the wound, holding her close to
his chest. I rushed to the telephone and called our vet, and
to our relief he was still in his office at 7:30 p.m. All I
had to say was that we had a bird emergency and he said to
bring her in immediately. The thirty minute drive down the
winding, twisting 2-lane mountain road took me twenty minutes.
Inca sat quietly in the dark in my husbands lap while he stroked
her face and spoke gently, assuring her that she was going to
be okay. There was no screaming, no thrashing, indeed no movement
of any kind. Just two huge dark eyes watching his face as if
questioning "why". The vet quickly examined her and said that he
would have perform emergency surgery immediately. We wanted to
wait until she recovered from the anesthesia, but I had babies
at home to feed and the doctor had no idea how long the surgery
would take. We drove home in silence, knowing that Inca was in
very serious condition having lost a lot of blood, her tiny
body already in a state of stress from the previous days journey.
In those quiet moments of prayer I knew that if Inca survived
I would never be able to part with her.
After what seemed like an eternity, the phone rang one and a
half hours later. The vet informed us that he had inserted a
steel pin at the break and stitched up the wound. Although she
was in a very weakened state, he felt that if she made it through
the night, Inca had a good chance of full recovery. We arrived
back at the office the next morning at 8:00 a.m. sharp and were
shown into the operating room. Inca was sitting on a perch in the
corner of a small cage beside a heat lamp. What a pitiful sight
she was...still dirty from being confined in the small shipping
container, her feathers stained with blood from the trauma of
the night before, and a look on her face that said, "what next?"
The doctor showed us the X-ray of the wing and we were surprised
to find that the compound break was up very high up on the wing,
nearly inside the body cavity. We wondered if the wing had been
broken when caught on the cage, but were doubtful because the
wing had not twisted (that we had seen), and my husband had been
able to free Inca very quickly. The only other two explanations
were that the injury had occurred when she was being caught and
boxed early the morning of shipment, or while in the small box
during transit. We'll never know the answer.
With the frightened baby Major Mitchell's now snuggled in a
small towel lined cardboard box, we began the drive home.
We kept Inca confined in the box and noticed that the she
slept through the remainder of the day. At 4:00 p.m., we gave
her an injection of antibiotics provided by the vet, and I
was able to get her to eat a bit of formula from a spoon. She
looked so weak and helpless and I cried softly while holding
her, wondering if she was going to make it.
I had my answer at daybreak the next morning. We awoke and found
that Inca was wide awake. Once again I fed her a bit of formula
and then offered her a dish of sprouted seeds. Although she
picked at the sprouts through the morning, she still appeared
exhausted and I kept her box partly covered so she could continue
to rest. At midday when I reached into the box to check on Inca
I was suddenly surprised. Jumping up, I began shouting to my
husband, "She bit me! She bit me hard!" I was ecstatic that
this precious baby bird was obviously feeling better. That the
first and only time Inca ever bit either of us.
I warmed a bit of formula, and as the spoon approached her mouth,
Inca leaned her head back, reached out for the food and began
bobbing her head up and down...our injured baby was really
hungry. After eating a few bites, she allowed me to hold her and
scratch her face for several minutes before returning her to her
temporary cardboard home. An hour later, I glanced in and found
her tossing some fresh veggies from one end of the box to the
other. She was eating (or at least playing).
That afternoon, after receiving her next injection, Inca ate a
bit more formula. After all my other babies had been fed and
safely tucked-in for "night-night", I once again reached in to
gently pick up my young charge, and we began what was to become
a nightly ritual for the two of us over the next few years. As
I clutched this baby to my chest and leaned back in the recliner,
she reached up with her beak and gently pulled on my bottom
lip...Inca then relaxed, snuggled her head against my neck and
was fast asleep in two minutes. My husband covered us with a
blanket and the two of us slept in the chair without moving for
over an hour.
The next morning, just before daybreak I was awakened by the
sound of Inca scraping her beak against the side of the box
which now "lived" right next to our bed.
I leaned over and pulled her up onto the bed with me. She
stretched her neck, and after "kissing" my lower
lip began whimpering for food. After eating a few bites of
formula, she crawled up my arm, then up to my chest, and
began reaching for my face. As I lowered my head our little
angel, ever so gently, began preening my eyelashes.
When returned to her box, Inca started eating soaked seed
immediately. Though still weak, it appeared that our new
bird was finally well on the road to recovery. We took the
first photographs of Inca that morning...she really looked
pathetic. Her tail and stomach were still stained due to the
long stay in the shipping box, her entire right side stained
red with blood and disinfectant as a result of the operation,
and every feather on her tiny body looked out of place. But
underneath all of that disarray lay a marvelous creature with
a strong will to survive.
When Inca would look up at us with her bright shining eyes,
tilt her head slightly to one side, then give a very low
"gurgle" while reaching up to preen our faces, we could feel
the love and intelligence radiating from that tiny bird...and
we somehow knew that she was thanking us for helping her survive
the pain.
As the weeks progressed, so did Inca's healing process and
her personality. When the time came to remove the pin from
her wing and we went into the Dr's. office, we were all amazed
when, instead of panicking, Inca climbed up the vets arm and
began preening his face. From that day on, any time we took
her for a drive in the car and were close to his office, we
had to take Inca in for a visit with "Dr..." she had an open
invitation. Indeed, Inca would happily go to anyone who
approached her in a warm, gentle manner.
Inca was a wonderful addition to our family, but never bonded
to any of our other pet Cockatoos...she was "Mum's special
buddy. The memories of the time she spent with us are too
special for words. Each day was a joyous event for Inca, and
she lived life to the fullest, perhaps because it had nearly
been snatched from her at such an early age.
She began each morning by coming out of her sleeping cage, next
to our bed, and climbing under the covers for a cuddle with
"Mum". During the day, she would spend part of her time in her
"day" cage in the bird room with her feathered brothers and
sisters and part of the time cuddling and playing with us. No
matter if I was feeding baby birds, preparing human or bird
meals, reading, talking on the phone or watching TV, Inca
seemed perfectly content just to be with me. She would sit on
the arm of my easy chair "demanding" that I preen her majestic
crest...if I tried to rest my hand, Inca would reach out with
her beak, lift my hand, and place her head under my fingers
looking up at me with that beautiful smiling face...how could
I say no?
We placed an old sheet on the living room floor which Inca
accepted as her play arena. She had a wicker basket full of
toys and would sit on the edge with her head cocked, looking
in until something "special" caught her eye. She
would climb down into the basket to retrieve the treasure,
then crawl back up to perch once again on the basket while
inspecting and destroying the item at hand.
Occasionally while playing Inca would get totally out of
control (overloaded). For no apparent reason she would
raise her crest, spread her wings, and begin running in
tight circles like a dog chasing its tail. I have to describe
our house in order for you to visualize and fully appreciate
this behavior. In northern Australia, due to the tropical
climate, doors were always open during the day and there
were no screens. Inca would begin "circling",
then like a top spinning she would begin moving laterally as
well. On several occasions, the spinning was so rapid that
before she (or we) knew what had happened, she was out the
door onto the verandah, then off the verandah and onto the
ground, where she would suddenly stop, raise her head, and
look around as if to say, "What happened?"
One evening both my husband and I were in the kitchen preparing
dinner and Inca was playing in the living room. Although she
could see us, I suppose she felt we weren't close enough to
suit her. She climbed up the three steps and walked purposely
over to where we were standing. I looked at her and said, "Inca, I
can't pick you up right now, my hands are dirty. And Dad is
cooking something on the stove." I'll never forget the puzzled
look on her face. She then walked over to the corner where the
cabinets join and stood with her face pushed against the wood
like a child in school who has been told to go "stand in
the corner". After a couple of minutes, she pulled one foot
up and closed her eyes. From that point on, she did that
anytime we were both in the kitchen and she wanted our attention.
Inca's bedtime was 7:00 p.m. on the dot, summer and winter.
This was her decision. She always had dinner with us around
6:00, and by 6:30 would begin beak scraping, while snuggled
up against either my husband or myself on the couch. She
would be quite insulted if for some reason we were not watching
the clock closely enough, and at precisely 7:00 p.m. would crawl
up the six steps leading to our bedroom. There she would sit on
the floor by the door and wait until one of us would pick up
her, apologizing profusely for being such "negligent" parents,
and tuck her in safe and sound for night-night.
Even though we had been raising Australian cockatoos for
five years when Inca came into our lives, we were (and are)
continually amazed at their wisdom, the depth of their feelings
and their acceptance of humans. Inca was a new chapter to us,
and one that taught us the importance, indeed the necessity, of
interacting positively with natures rare and special creatures.
If we are willing to accept new challenges and open our lives
and hearts to new experiences...then we might just be touched
by an angel.
*********
Thank you to Sam Foster, Avian Consultant
Reprinted from Pet Bird Report
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Hear our humble prayer, O God, for our friends the animals.
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ALBERT SCHWEITZER
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