Black Leather and that Little Grey Smile

"Want some?! Want some?Want some?!!?" I swear, I've NEVER seen a bird this excited about ANYTHING! His visible disappointment when the sugary fix isn't forthcoming is almost heartbreaking, tempered by my knowledge that I have to dodge his sharp little black beak. I can certainly understand why the wife gave him the candy to keep him from taking chunks out of her hands....I'm sure she was desperate. The hate in his beady little eyes is clear! When he sees I'm coming to change his food and water, but don't have his candy, he's poised for attack. I try to distract him with a slice of apple or a chunk of orange. No dice. Fresh, natural sugar is not an option for this guy. He's holding out for the real thing, with my fingers as hostages. Since I work with my hands and do NOT need a port of entry for microorganisms that my lovely patients might carry; out come my nice black winter leather gloves. I suddenly feel like I'm about to commit a crime.....*evil chuckle*!


No crime from me, instead Figaro commits the crime, trying to destroy my gloves. I cringe, hating to sacrifice something I've had for years (since the early 90s, but Becca doesn't need to know that or she'll laugh at me, thrilled at the chance to point out yet another "old" item I need to give away...YES, I wear my clothes pretty much until they fall off my body.), something "nice", (but living in Texas, something I hardly wear anymore)....but giving kudos to Nordies, in spite of our little grey meanie's attempts to mutilate the gloves, he doesn't even make a mark. Yay! I can use these for falconry, should I want! (I am kidding. Maybe.)


I consult with De, from Wings of Love Bird Haven near Dallas; the reputable bird rescue that has brought Figaro and myself together. She has several helpful suggestions regarding his nutrition and subsequently, and hopefully, his behavior and acceptance of me. I continue to work with the little gray brat. He tugs at my heart every time I look at him because he looks JUST LIKE QUELA but he is definitely NOT QUELA....as the bite marks on my hands and fingers attest. Fellow nurses at work make concerned noises when I come in with new wounds. I continue to work with him. He continues to respond positively only to Jack.


However, the sounds and vocalizations that are coming out of Figaro are hysterical! In addition to his huge bilingual vocabulary and song repertoire, he has now picked up all three of our dogs' barks, mimics Ruby's phrases, and scolds the two naughtiest dogs in my voice. I must say it's a little eerie when a ball of gray fluff is saying back to you what you don't even realize you're saying...such as when I cleaned his cage, finished laying new paper in the bottom, and as I pushed in the tray, before I say a word, Figaro says..."There you go". And talk about intelligent...I do believe he's even more intelligent than Quela was; judging by the short length of time it takes him to pick up a new phrase or sound. African Greys have the intelligence of a five year old child, it wouldn't surprise me if Figaro had the intelligence of a surly teenager, since he obviously has the attitude! One day Jack and I were talking about taking my car in for an oil change, out of the blue we hear from Figgy: "Volkswagon". We looked at each other in shock - no matter that I drive a Honda - still that he would associate the words oil change and general car banter with a car manufacturer? Wow. Just wow. And THIS is why I love the species.




Several weeks later, however, progress is at a standstill, and De and I confer. We agree that he would be better off at the Haven, where she can work with him more intensively. I am in agreement, as I feel that although he loves the food aspect of living here (little piglet! He eats more in one day than Ruby does in four!), he doesn't like the *me* aspect and he's not adoptable at this point. We make arrangements to meet half-way with another bird volunteer; the lovely and personable Meghan - and off we go. I put him in his travel cage in the front seat for company for the drive to Temple, the half-way point. On the way up, he tries to pick holes in the leather upholstery, change gears, and finally out of fear of him trying to hijack the car itself and take off for parts unknown, I pull over and stick him in the back, his travel cage surrounded by parts of a larger cage. The rest of the trip is uneventful, and I hand him off to Meghan. She chats him up a bit, places him in her car, and he immediately tries to bite her and escape from his cage. She exclaims "Why, he's a little s$^#!!!"

Yep, he is.