Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Benny & Joon: My Mom is a Nutcase - Vol. IV
"Has your mom told you about her newest scheme," my stepfather asked me one afternoon. I'd called to find out what I was supposed to bring for dessert that weekend.
"Oh no," I sighed. "What's she into now?"
"Well, there's been a parakeet flying around the yard the past couple days..."
"Aw! Poor birdie! He must have escaped from someone."
"Yea, your mom's worried he's going to starve to death, so she's trying to capture him," he chuckled a bit, "she was out there with a net the other day! She couldn't catch him, so she went out and got a great big birdcage to trap him in. It's hanging in a tree out back."
He laughed harder. This distinctive chuckle I've come to recognize as his my wife's so cute laugh. Often heard when she mispronounces American words in her little Italian accent.
"We bought some trouts from Door County. . .Those noisy kids are so obnochiss..."
When I arrived that weekend, my mom was outside waiting for me. After big hugs and kisses, I asked her to tell me about this parakeet.
She became very animated, "Oh, he's so cute! I heard him singing out there, and I thought poor thing, he must have gotten away from somebody. I've been trying to catch him, but he keeps getting away from me."
"Stepdad told me you set a cage out there?"
"Oh yea! I put food in there, and little toys. But he still wouldn't go in there! I don't see if he goes to the feeders either! Poor thing."
I laugh at the frustration creeping in her voice. And I understand, because I know I'd be trying to save the poor bird myself.
We had parakeets for most of my life. Tweety, who was green and white. I had him when I was probably 9 or 10. I tasted his birdseed. He lived in a cage suspended from the ceiling, and I didn't pay much attention to him. He died while we were away on vacation and he had to stay at my friend's house. I was pretty sure there was some foul play involved. How does a parakeet just die? Especially when he was fine before we left. They just gave us back his empty cage. Spotless.
Then I got Sassy a year or so later. I didn't know he was a boy until I got a book on parakeets from a rummage sale later that summer. Turns out, the ones with the bright, colorful feathers and the blue nostrils are boys. We kept his name Sassy, anyway.
My mom loved George Michael, and she would blast his magnum opus Faith while we cleaned the house. Sassy would go nuts, flapping his wings, running back and forth in his cage. He's shriek at the top of his little lungs for the duration of the song. We'd marvel at how much Sassy loved it.
My grandmother had come to visit the next summer, and she remarked that Sassy always sat in front of his mirror, singing to himself. She said he was probably sad and lonely, and we should get him a girlfriend. We bought Bianca. She was the muted blue female to his bright blue male.
Sassy was in love, and kissed and groomed her constantly. Sometimes she kissed him back, sometimes she thumped him on the head. They created quite a ruckus and shed a flock's worth of feathers everyday.
They stayed behind with my mom and my brother when I moved out. Sassy died when I was 19 or so. My brother called me after it happened. Poor Sassy was an old man.
Bianca came to live with my boyfriend and I about a year or so later. He decided Bianca was a stupid name, and named her Birdie. He thought Birdie should have a companion, so we bought George.
Birdie pecked George's head all the time. She attacked him when he tried to eat. She kept her foot on his back when she slept. George died a week after meeting Birdie.
Four years later, I woke up to Birdie sitting on the floor of her cage. She couldn't jump up on her bar, and made miserable squawking noises. I called a bird vet and they told me she probably had a stroke and she was going to die. She was an old birdie after all. And she did die a few hours later. I watched her take her last breath.
I could sympathize with my mom trying to catch this poor budgie. After all, he'll just die out there in the wild!
"Hopefully, Joon will help me catch him," mom says.
"June?"
"No, Joon! I bought a little girl parakeet to lure Benny in. I named the other parakeet Benny."
"OH! That Johnny Depp movie...I don't remember that much about it..."
"Well, I bought Joon and Benny has been hanging around her! It's so cute! They sing to each other. He sits in the tree right by her and serenades her."
We approach a cluster of short, dense trees. She's hung a large square finch's cage inside of which there's a smaller ornate parakeet cage inside of which is a little yellow parakeet.
Clever.
"Does he go in there?"
"Oh yea! Lots of birds do." She had food dishes inside both of the cages. "And then, at night I put her in the shed, so that if he goes in to sleep with her, I might be able to catch him. So far he's been to fast for me! He should get used to me soon, though."
"Then you're going to keep them in the cage? In the house, or what?"
"Well, yea, in the house at night and when it gets cold. But, they can stay out there for the summer days, that way they can listen to the other birds."
I called her a couple of days later to get an update on the Benny and Joon saga.
"I let them go."
"What?! You let them go?"
"I know! I felt bad...I was telling the doctor that I work with about the birds and how I tried to catch Benny so he wouldn't die. And he said something that really touched me...He said, 'would you rather live free for a few months or spend a few years locked up in a cage.' I felt so bad after that, I just went outside and opened the door for Joon to get out."
"Wow."
"I know...And you know what? I looked it up online, and I read that sometimes parakeets join groups of sparrows and migrate with them."
"I didn't know that..." I tried to look that up online, and I got nothing. I need to ask her what her search criteria were.
"Yup, isn't that neat? So they might be ok!"
"Maybe they'll come back next year with their babies!"
"That would be so neat!"
They didn't come back, and that made me a little sad. Maybe they liked it so much down south, they didn't want to come back.
"Oh no," I sighed. "What's she into now?"
"Well, there's been a parakeet flying around the yard the past couple days..."
"Aw! Poor birdie! He must have escaped from someone."
"Yea, your mom's worried he's going to starve to death, so she's trying to capture him," he chuckled a bit, "she was out there with a net the other day! She couldn't catch him, so she went out and got a great big birdcage to trap him in. It's hanging in a tree out back."
He laughed harder. This distinctive chuckle I've come to recognize as his my wife's so cute laugh. Often heard when she mispronounces American words in her little Italian accent.
"We bought some trouts from Door County. . .Those noisy kids are so obnochiss..."
When I arrived that weekend, my mom was outside waiting for me. After big hugs and kisses, I asked her to tell me about this parakeet.
She became very animated, "Oh, he's so cute! I heard him singing out there, and I thought poor thing, he must have gotten away from somebody. I've been trying to catch him, but he keeps getting away from me."
"Stepdad told me you set a cage out there?"
"Oh yea! I put food in there, and little toys. But he still wouldn't go in there! I don't see if he goes to the feeders either! Poor thing."
I laugh at the frustration creeping in her voice. And I understand, because I know I'd be trying to save the poor bird myself.
We had parakeets for most of my life. Tweety, who was green and white. I had him when I was probably 9 or 10. I tasted his birdseed. He lived in a cage suspended from the ceiling, and I didn't pay much attention to him. He died while we were away on vacation and he had to stay at my friend's house. I was pretty sure there was some foul play involved. How does a parakeet just die? Especially when he was fine before we left. They just gave us back his empty cage. Spotless.
Then I got Sassy a year or so later. I didn't know he was a boy until I got a book on parakeets from a rummage sale later that summer. Turns out, the ones with the bright, colorful feathers and the blue nostrils are boys. We kept his name Sassy, anyway.
My mom loved George Michael, and she would blast his magnum opus Faith while we cleaned the house. Sassy would go nuts, flapping his wings, running back and forth in his cage. He's shriek at the top of his little lungs for the duration of the song. We'd marvel at how much Sassy loved it.
My grandmother had come to visit the next summer, and she remarked that Sassy always sat in front of his mirror, singing to himself. She said he was probably sad and lonely, and we should get him a girlfriend. We bought Bianca. She was the muted blue female to his bright blue male.
Sassy was in love, and kissed and groomed her constantly. Sometimes she kissed him back, sometimes she thumped him on the head. They created quite a ruckus and shed a flock's worth of feathers everyday.
They stayed behind with my mom and my brother when I moved out. Sassy died when I was 19 or so. My brother called me after it happened. Poor Sassy was an old man.
Bianca came to live with my boyfriend and I about a year or so later. He decided Bianca was a stupid name, and named her Birdie. He thought Birdie should have a companion, so we bought George.
Birdie pecked George's head all the time. She attacked him when he tried to eat. She kept her foot on his back when she slept. George died a week after meeting Birdie.
Four years later, I woke up to Birdie sitting on the floor of her cage. She couldn't jump up on her bar, and made miserable squawking noises. I called a bird vet and they told me she probably had a stroke and she was going to die. She was an old birdie after all. And she did die a few hours later. I watched her take her last breath.
I could sympathize with my mom trying to catch this poor budgie. After all, he'll just die out there in the wild!
"Hopefully, Joon will help me catch him," mom says.
"June?"
"No, Joon! I bought a little girl parakeet to lure Benny in. I named the other parakeet Benny."
"OH! That Johnny Depp movie...I don't remember that much about it..."
"Well, I bought Joon and Benny has been hanging around her! It's so cute! They sing to each other. He sits in the tree right by her and serenades her."
We approach a cluster of short, dense trees. She's hung a large square finch's cage inside of which there's a smaller ornate parakeet cage inside of which is a little yellow parakeet.
Clever.
"Does he go in there?"
"Oh yea! Lots of birds do." She had food dishes inside both of the cages. "And then, at night I put her in the shed, so that if he goes in to sleep with her, I might be able to catch him. So far he's been to fast for me! He should get used to me soon, though."
"Then you're going to keep them in the cage? In the house, or what?"
"Well, yea, in the house at night and when it gets cold. But, they can stay out there for the summer days, that way they can listen to the other birds."
I called her a couple of days later to get an update on the Benny and Joon saga.
"I let them go."
"What?! You let them go?"
"I know! I felt bad...I was telling the doctor that I work with about the birds and how I tried to catch Benny so he wouldn't die. And he said something that really touched me...He said, 'would you rather live free for a few months or spend a few years locked up in a cage.' I felt so bad after that, I just went outside and opened the door for Joon to get out."
"Wow."
"I know...And you know what? I looked it up online, and I read that sometimes parakeets join groups of sparrows and migrate with them."
"I didn't know that..." I tried to look that up online, and I got nothing. I need to ask her what her search criteria were.
"Yup, isn't that neat? So they might be ok!"
"Maybe they'll come back next year with their babies!"
"That would be so neat!"
They didn't come back, and that made me a little sad. Maybe they liked it so much down south, they didn't want to come back.
// posted by jess @ 10:28 PM 
Comments:
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"I tasted his birdseed."
Did you need needle-nose pliers to draw it out? Come on, you knew it was cumming.
Good post.
Did you need needle-nose pliers to draw it out? Come on, you knew it was cumming.
Good post.
# posted by 
: 11:45 PM
: 11:45 PM
Your mom will get good karma for letting the birdies go. She sounds like a sweetie.
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# posted by : 1:09 AM
: 1:09 AM << Home
