Children Can Do the Darndest Things!

My tip for today is: if you’ve tried for a long time to do something to no avail, ask a child.

As you know, I acquired my parakeet Charlie over a year and a half ago. Since that time, I’ve tried to finger train him, but all he would do is shake and tremble and avoid my finger like the plague. I’ve been patient, I’ve checked out the internet on how to train a parakeet, I’ve talked, cooed, and cajoled him. All to no avail. Those two ounces of feathers outwitted me at every turn.

Three weeks ago, my eleven-year-old great grandson, Aiden, came over and headed straight for Charlie’s cage. I warned him to be careful and that he could stick his finger in the cage all he wanted, but there was no way Charlie would get on it. I continued to talk to his grandparents, Cyndi and Bill, about Stewart getting out of rehab the next day and making sure my home was ready for a wheelchair and other paraphernalia.

As we talked, Aiden came waltzing into the kitchen with Charlie on his finger. To say I was astonished is putting it mildly. We transferred Charlie from finger to finger—Cyndi’s, Bill’s, and mine, and Charlie acted as though he’d done this for years! In an hour’s time, Aiden had finger trained Charlie, something I couldn’t do in eighteen months. I can now get Charlie on my finger and bring him out of the cage just like a real pet. Thank you, Aiden! Never underestimate the power, patience, and persistence of a child!

Since this is after all a writing blog, let me add that I was at a craft fair Saturday offering Saving Lou for sale. Much to my delight, I sold all but two of the books I’d brought.

FYI: I’ll be at the Cleveland High School Craft Fair on December 1, selling Willard Manor. If you’re in the area, please stop by.

Quote of the Day: Children are not only innocent and curious but also optimistic and joyful and essentially happy. They are, in short, everything adults wish they could be. Carolyn Haywood

Charlie, My New Roomie

My life is for the birds. Well, one bird anyway--a tiny blue and white parakeet that I rescued from the county shelter two weeks ago. I had contemplated getting a pet to keep me company, but quickly discarded the idea of a dog (it would need to be walked and cleaned up after) and a cat (I’d have to deal with a litter box). Hence, a bird named Charlie fit the bill (no pun intended).  

I once wrote an article called, “I Gave My Husband the Bird.” Fred loved birds, so for Christmas one year I gave him a yellow cockatiel. She was part of our family for many years. This bird, which Fred named “Bird,” had the run of the house. A ladder from her cage to the floor gave her easy access to anywhere she wanted to go. She turned out to be my bird as she only acknowledged Fred during football season. Once he settled in his chair on Sundays with a bag of potato chips, she would hightail it over to him to beg for a chip.

Otherwise, she followed me all over the house, into the office, the kitchen, and at the dining room table where she’d grab a corn niblet off my plate. Her demise came one day when Fred moved to the right to avoid stepping on her and she moved to the right to avoid being stepped on. Talk about a perfect storm lining up!

After that, the house was way too quiet with two adults but no little four-ounce ball of fluff. Within a week, I dragged Fred to the bird store and we bought another yellow cockatiel that looked just like Bird. We named this one Crash because she slammed into the walls every time she took flight. The ladder was removed so she couldn’t get down to the floor as easily as her predecessor. When we moved from California, we gave Crash to a friend, assuming it would be better than moving her across the country.

It’s been over three years since the move. I realized I missed the chirping and personality of a bird. Not finding any cockatiels for sale in the area, I found Charlie, the first parakeet I’ve owned since high school. He’s still getting used to me and his surroundings and only occasionally chirps. Mostly, he sits on his perch, a very quiet roommate.

The shelter named him Charlie assuming he was a male; time will tell if they’re right. We thought the cockatiels were males, too, until they both started laying eggs.

So now I no longer ramble around the house alone; there’s someone else to talk to and whose needs I have to consider. I guess you could say I gave myself the bird--his name is Charlie.

Quote of the Day: My heart is like a singing bird. Christina Georgina Rosetti