Read Online Pickles The Parrot: A Humorous Look At Life With An African Grey by Georgi Abbott - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Georgi Abbott
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his head hidden like an ostrich in the dirt. He
remained like that for quite some time completely motionless. I
watched. He hung.
After awhile I finally asked if he was okay.
An echoed grumbling was my only reply. A couple of minutes later, I
asked again but his only response was a very quiet, mournful
"Daddeeee" punctuated with a sigh.
"You gonna hang upside down with your head in
a bowl for 2 months Pickles?" I asked.
"Stuck" he said.
"You're not stuck, your just sulking" I
accused.
"STUCK" he insisted.
"Liar" I said.
A solitary eye rose barely above the brim
just long enough to glare at me, then back to the bowl.
Fine, let's see how long he can pout upside
down. I wait.
We both sit in silence. Blessed silence.
Something I hadn't experienced for a couple of days.
Pickles couldn't stand it after awhile and
couldn't resist raising his head in slow motion until one eyeball
appeared just long enough to confirm he still had my attention.
Then back in the bowl.
He soon tired of this position so, with his
head still inside, one foot reached for the side of the bowl, but
he slipped. With a flap and a squawk, he landed in the bowl with
nothing but his little twinker sticking out.
A short struggle ensued and, without ever
retracting his head, he managed a foothold on the edge of the bowl.
There he perched, headless. And embarrassed. He blames the pellets
and punishes them all by smashing them with his beak and sending
them flying, head still in bowl.
He settles down but now it's a matter of
pride. He's tired of his head in a bowl but how do you remove a
head without losing face? He opts for a clever change of subject.
Switching to his sweet voice, he politely asks, "Wanna sing a
song?"
I'm tempted to make him sweat it out a little
longer but I cave and sing him his favorite song. Up pops the
weasel with a "Woo Hoo! Whatta good song!!" Pickles chimes in and
we pretend he didn't just spend the last few minutes making a fool
of himself.
He settled down after that but a couple of
weeks later, I was sitting on the couch with Pickles on the back of
the couch next to me. I noticed him looking with interest outside
so I turned and saw the neighbour's headlights as he was turning
into his driveway. I commented, "Davie's home" and Pickles went
ballistic! He started flapping, crouching, wing splaying and
running back and forth the length of the window. In his excitement,
he somehow became airborne and landed on the base of his play
stand. From there, he scampered up the branches, fast as a monkey
hollering “Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home! Woo hoo! Hello baby! Hello
bayyyybeeee!”
Oh man, I felt sooo bad. He thought I said
Daddy and even though he knows the difference in driveways I guess
he got confused.
It took me awhile to calm him but after
awhile he sat there, all fluffed up, mournfully informing me "Daddy
go bye-bye. Be gone long."
Eventually Neil finished the job and returned
home. The next day, he went to work at the shop, giving me the day
off. Pickles wasn’t happy.
“Daddy go bye-bye.” he said glumly, “Be right
back” he added.
I informed him “No, Daddy be gone long
time.”
Pickles whined, “Gone long time??”
“Yes” I answered.
Pickles firmly announced “He SAID he’d be
right back!”
“He did not.” I argued.
“He said he’d sing a song!” Pickles said.
“Stop lying Pickles, Daddy went to work.” I
insisted.
“What a load of beans” he spat.
I mentioned Pickles’ little screech in the
first chapter. Over time, that little screech may as well have been
a drill through the head. I think I might have preferred it. He did
it whenever he wasn’t happy and usually, if Pickles wasn’t happy,
it was because he wasn’t getting enough attention. At first, when
he did this, we would tend to him and fix whatever was wrong. Bad
mistake. Pickles learned that screeches were rewarded with
attention so he used it incessantly. The more he used it, the more
we tried to please him. We don’t
remained like that for quite some time completely motionless. I
watched. He hung.
After awhile I finally asked if he was okay.
An echoed grumbling was my only reply. A couple of minutes later, I
asked again but his only response was a very quiet, mournful
"Daddeeee" punctuated with a sigh.
"You gonna hang upside down with your head in
a bowl for 2 months Pickles?" I asked.
"Stuck" he said.
"You're not stuck, your just sulking" I
accused.
"STUCK" he insisted.
"Liar" I said.
A solitary eye rose barely above the brim
just long enough to glare at me, then back to the bowl.
Fine, let's see how long he can pout upside
down. I wait.
We both sit in silence. Blessed silence.
Something I hadn't experienced for a couple of days.
Pickles couldn't stand it after awhile and
couldn't resist raising his head in slow motion until one eyeball
appeared just long enough to confirm he still had my attention.
Then back in the bowl.
He soon tired of this position so, with his
head still inside, one foot reached for the side of the bowl, but
he slipped. With a flap and a squawk, he landed in the bowl with
nothing but his little twinker sticking out.
A short struggle ensued and, without ever
retracting his head, he managed a foothold on the edge of the bowl.
There he perched, headless. And embarrassed. He blames the pellets
and punishes them all by smashing them with his beak and sending
them flying, head still in bowl.
He settles down but now it's a matter of
pride. He's tired of his head in a bowl but how do you remove a
head without losing face? He opts for a clever change of subject.
Switching to his sweet voice, he politely asks, "Wanna sing a
song?"
I'm tempted to make him sweat it out a little
longer but I cave and sing him his favorite song. Up pops the
weasel with a "Woo Hoo! Whatta good song!!" Pickles chimes in and
we pretend he didn't just spend the last few minutes making a fool
of himself.
He settled down after that but a couple of
weeks later, I was sitting on the couch with Pickles on the back of
the couch next to me. I noticed him looking with interest outside
so I turned and saw the neighbour's headlights as he was turning
into his driveway. I commented, "Davie's home" and Pickles went
ballistic! He started flapping, crouching, wing splaying and
running back and forth the length of the window. In his excitement,
he somehow became airborne and landed on the base of his play
stand. From there, he scampered up the branches, fast as a monkey
hollering “Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home! Woo hoo! Hello baby! Hello
bayyyybeeee!”
Oh man, I felt sooo bad. He thought I said
Daddy and even though he knows the difference in driveways I guess
he got confused.
It took me awhile to calm him but after
awhile he sat there, all fluffed up, mournfully informing me "Daddy
go bye-bye. Be gone long."
Eventually Neil finished the job and returned
home. The next day, he went to work at the shop, giving me the day
off. Pickles wasn’t happy.
“Daddy go bye-bye.” he said glumly, “Be right
back” he added.
I informed him “No, Daddy be gone long
time.”
Pickles whined, “Gone long time??”
“Yes” I answered.
Pickles firmly announced “He SAID he’d be
right back!”
“He did not.” I argued.
“He said he’d sing a song!” Pickles said.
“Stop lying Pickles, Daddy went to work.” I
insisted.
“What a load of beans” he spat.
I mentioned Pickles’ little screech in the
first chapter. Over time, that little screech may as well have been
a drill through the head. I think I might have preferred it. He did
it whenever he wasn’t happy and usually, if Pickles wasn’t happy,
it was because he wasn’t getting enough attention. At first, when
he did this, we would tend to him and fix whatever was wrong. Bad
mistake. Pickles learned that screeches were rewarded with
attention so he used it incessantly. The more he used it, the more
we tried to please him. We don’t
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