How Much Is That Birdie In The Window?

So our beloved cockatiel died a few months ago at age 26.

In the words of my son, our bird had a good West County life.

However, my husband began missing his little friend. He was the only one in the house that actually listened to him and talked back.

We have three cats so we really weren’t planning on acquiring another two-winged friend. But the house was so quiet. We missed his chirping. 

Our bird was always happy to see us.  He loved it when we came home from shopping or dinner with friends. He could hear us pulling into the driveway and would start chirping before we even got our car into the garage.

Unlike our kids, he always was welcoming to his parents. We enjoyed him so much that we decided to get another one, a cockatiel. So we decided to visit a pet shop.

A friend had given us our first bird, so going through a pet store would be a whole new experience.

After doing some research we found a shop that sold all sorts of birds. They got them from breeders.

We went to take a look and figured we would just pick one out and come home. Not so easy.

They had a room full of cockatiels, all colors and all sizes, and all spoken for. Who knew? We had no idea so many people wanted cockatiels. There was going to be a long wait to get one.

We didn’t realize cockatiels came with “options”. It was like buying a car. Did you want a standard cockatiel, one with speckles, or a special all white or all yellow version? The price differed on which one you chose.

So we put on our thinking caps and watched all the birds. There was no doubt about it. We wanted one with little spots on his back highlighting the base colors of gray and yellow because it was so beautiful.

We learned these colored highlights were called “pearls” and the birds were thus called pearl cockatiels. They are very popular, everyone wants one and people are willing to wait to get one.

So here’s the kicker. We had to go on a long waiting list. We wanted to meet the bird before taking him home to make sure he had a good personality. We didn’t want a dud.

I think we could’ve adopted a child with less aggravation.

Finally, after several months, our name came up on the list and we got the call. It was time to meet our future son or daughter.

Well we had already come up with a name for him, Winston, and were told he would be in a nursery for newly hatched cockatiels. Have you ever seen a nursery for baby birds? Neither had we.

We arrived at the shop and waited. Then were directed to go to a special room. We got in and didn’t see any baby birds. One of us asked a staff member and they said oh no he’s right here with the rest of the birds. We eagerly looked around and we didn’t see him, or any other babies for that matter.

Then they said… well here he comes. So from in the corner they roll out a stand with, I kid you not, Tupperware containers on it. They picked one up, opened the lid, and there were these ugly little screaming baby somethings. They were in this little type of incubator all mashed together.

The staffer said one of these birds is yours.  Then told us it would be about eight weeks before we could take Winston home. He would need to be fed through a dropper, coddled and cuddled or whatever they do to get him ready for the real world. Ugly as he was, I didn’t want to take him then anyway.

I know every mother loves their kid, ugly or not, because they think their kid is beautiful. Not this thing.

They said come back in a week or two and you’ll be able to hold him.

Two weeks later we came back. He actually looked like a bird. He was absolutely adorable.

Of course, when it was my turn to hold him, he slipped on my coat almost onto the floor but my husband caught him.

I never dropped one of my real babies.

On our next visit he was a lot bigger. They said he was full size and we could see his spots and colors. He was really pretty. I held him again but suddenly he took off for parts unknown.  He landed on the top of the ceiling fan in the room. Luckily the fan wasn’t on at the time.

Somehow, in my older age, my ability to be a mother went sideways.

I asked the shop workers if they were going to get a ladder to get him  down. They said, oh no, he has to learn to fly and get down on his own. I said, well, why aren’t you going to clip his wings? They replied we cannot clip his wings until he learns how to fly and land.

I said what if he hits the wall and kills himself? She said they have only had one recent incident when the bird hit the wall and broke his neck.  Of course, then, I almost hit the wall.

Meanwhile we will not know the bird’s sex for six months. My husband Steve said we are calling him Winston and that’s it.  Winston will never know it if he turns out to be a girl. I’m not going tell him, that’s for sure.

Last week we made our usual trip to check on Winston. A staffer said it would be another 14 days or so until he was weaned and off the dropper, and eating regular seeds before he could go home.

Then, a few days later, we get a call from the pet place saying Winston was ready to come home. Looks like he was more ready than they thought.

We had his cage ready to go but there were a few other things that needed to be done. So we raced around putting the finishing touches on what we needed to bring our new baby home.

In the rush I put my blouse on backwards. I was not even this nervous when I went to the hospital to deliver my own kids.

So we go to the shop and start to get fixed up with all the special food and toys he needs. I took Winston into the outer room to hold him while my husband did the paperwork.

A woman explained to us all the do’s and don’ts to help the bird stay healthy.  Seems like we did everything wrong with our first bird.  I don’t know how the old fella lived to be 26.

When I told the lady that the food we bought for our first bird was purchased at Walmart, she looked at me like I was giving him poison. Then she instructed us to switch out new toys for him every three weeks so he doesn’t get bored.

My old bird had the same toys probably the whole time. We only purchased toys for him every now and then. What terrible parents we were. He never complained or told me how bored he was. How was I supposed to know?

The store lady said we need to “bathe” our new bird three times a week. My old bird must’ve been filthy. He never brought it up that I was a bad parent, unlike what the kids of today will say to their mom and dad. The kids of today don’t know how good they have it.

So I digress.  We were wrapping up, and getting ready to go home when one of the ladies from the shop came running over and said…you’ve got the wrong bird! They gave the wrong one to us. I guess I’m not a great mother. I didn’t know my own child.

I’m now wondering if the two real kids I have are even mine. Sometimes I wish they weren’t. I wonder if the hospital made a mistake. Could these two boys really be ours anyway?

At the pet shop we bought everything they said we needed including a little transport to house the bird on his way home. Finally, $1 million dollars later, we left with Winston.

Once we got home the fun began. We had to worry about how our three cats would "greet" Winston, and worry we did. We had plans with friends for dinner for that night. So we transported the bird cage and all into my art room which is nice and cozy, and warm and private.

We were hoping our son, who is single, would be available to baby sit with his new “brother”. Unfortunately he wasn’t.  All the times I hired babysitters for him when he was a kid. I had to babysit my own brother more often than not. My kids never had to babysit anybody except each other. And that was all-out war. I could show you bashed in doors and walls all over our old house. Another story for another day.

So our adventures with Winston are about to begin. Stay tuned for late breaking news.  He may even have his own Instagram site. You never know.