Written by Peter Markham, all rights reserved.
Chris Biro Wrote: And now to the point of this post. Would you mind if
I repost this to the Freeflight list and to my Web site? I think it is
good for people to see a more balanced side of caring for parrots - not
just the caution, caution, and more caution, so commonly spewing from most bird
related publications.
>
Be my guest, Chris, with he following provisos.
Use this entire copy, enclosed, that changed a few errors of grammar and syntax,
AND adds a post script caveat.
Give credit to RARS, the place of original posting.
Hello, Linda.
The SIG has been relatively quiet, recently, and your question prompts me to
stimulate discourse, a little. No "new age" medicine, this.....
For whatever it may be worth; depending on the "differences" of a
Nanday Conure and a Rosy Bourke: The following narrative shows a distinct
prejudice in favor of the Nanday because I would not know a Bourke if it bit me,
and the Nanday is perched on my left shoulder, editing content, as I type. This
narrative does not pretend to consider "conventional wisdom",
applicable or not.
Twelve years ago I purchased my first exotic bird, a used, wild caught, two?
year old Nanday Conure named Pokey; and he was wild. He arrived at my residence
a feisty, noisy little dude, with clipped wings, sharp beak and no manners.
Other than having his wings clipped, the previous owners had done nothing with
him other than providing the essentials of life. At that time I knew nothing
about parrots, in particular, but I have been an observer and student of
wildlife since a small child.
It was my intent, at the time of purchase, to have a free flying bird in the
house. I had no doubt that a bird's nature could not be changed, but it could be
directed; I had seen lots a "bird" shows on TV, and some in person. I
never considered a bird's "intellect" to be anything other than what
should be expected from a "bird brain". All interaction with the bird
should be at the bird's level of "comprehension", be it as a
consequence of the bird's instinct or rational behavior.
I was willing to live with the "poop", if necessary, as I have
hardwood floors and covered furniture shared with dogs. I was not willing to
live with indiscriminate chewing of everything the bird might reach. It was my
intent that the bird learn what activities I was willing to live with and to
survive by its own wits. I would rule the house, as I saw fit, and he would rule
the inside of his cage, a refuge not to be violated except for food, water, and
cleaning chores.
His cage is on a small stand centered at a front window of the living room to
the left of the front entrance door to the house. He can view the street and all
comings and goings; therefore no startling visitors. He cannot climb from his
cage to anything else, and the dogs cannot (will not) reach his cage. The cage
is surrounded by an old child's crib rails and underneath all is several layers
of newspaper that barely protrudes from beneath the rails. A refuge fit for a
conure, to which he may retire at will or seek refuge therein if pursued by me,
baseball bat in hand; or the dogs, with lunch in mind.
Eight feet from his cage is a wood stove used during Winter, for heat. A ceiling
fan is centered in the living room ceiling. The fan runs at its lowest speed,
continuously, 365 days a year, 24 hours a day. The major flyway is from his
cage, across the living room, through the kitchen and dining room, then a sharp
left to the utility room, which houses a heap of hobby electronic equipment,
including the computer responsible for this post.
House rules:
I am boss.
The birds are never to be "punished" for anything over a few seconds
in the past. IE, if you don't catch 'em committing the "crime", tough!
Punishment, alien to the bird's nature, will not be contemplated or attempted.
No punishment will be administered that may panic a bird.
No Conure parking, stopping, loitering, standing or any other activity in the
kitchen, above the floor, except flying through or landing on the shoulder
looking for a hand out and returning to the cage. No training is required.
Family members just run him off, immediately, no exceptions, if he decides to do
anything else.
The bathroom is off limits unless accompanied by a human; no exceptions. He is
run off immediately if he has a lapse of memory.
An extended screaming jag, with no apparent cause, will be terminated by harsh
admonishment, a flying glove, roll of toilet paper, hat, wadded towel, or
anything soft and smaller than Detroit that will do no permanent damage to the
bird, house or furnishings. Similar "unjustified" in flight screaming
will be dealt with harsh words and banishment to the empty end of the house
accomplished with flailing arms, soft projectiles or anything else deemed
appropriate to motivate him in the desired direction. He is welcomed back, if
quiet. Seldom is he gone for much more than 15 to 20 seconds. He's no loner.
If no one is in the house, no bird will be uncaged.
My entire philosophy was to gain the bird's trust by acting in a predictable
manner that fostered his well being without being a constant guardian. The
philosophy is based on the premise that Pokey has a nature with sufficient
memory and intelligence that he can interact with his "world", safely,
with selective guidance and care from me. Pokey's behavior concerning that which
is alien to his nature, such as electricity, hot stoves, and rambunctious
Shelties is (was) my responsibility to modify or take protective measures.
Background information complete, this is how I achieved making Pokey the free
flying spirit, a condition he enjoys most of the day and night. Exceptions to
his run of the house: Samantha, the used Macaw, is out (I did not choose her
name, either!), the few times he is locked down to get him out of the family
hair for short periods of time, and when no one is at home.
Before his primary feathers grew back, some eleven years ago, I encouraged him
to take food from my fingers, and then the "step up!" routine. It was
well over a year before I could touch him without prompting an attempted blood
letting. I did not push myself upon him and let him learn at his own pace. When
his primaries grew out, he found, once again, what a joy it is to fly. Once able
to fly, he found all the great chewables: Venetian blinds, wood trim, ceiling
tile, furniture, knickknacks, Cockatiel toes, etc., that satisfied his craving
for chewing while exploring the house. It took a good year for me to
"break" him of his destructive chewing of that which I or the wife
valued. A dust mop, harsh rebukes and a little cursing worked well. I repaired
the damage some 2 years after he was willing to play by my ground rules.
He became familiar with a hot, but not burning hot, wood stove, with a little
oversight. After that, cold or cherry red, it was no place to land.
He learned to give the big rotating paddle fan at the ceiling enough clearance;
after a knock.
He flew into a front window, once, to the best of my knowledge, and never tried
it again.
He learned, in the school of sufficiently hard knocks, not to repeat behavior
that distressed him, mentally or physically.
He learned that he was more than welcome on my shoulder, but if he pooped on me
or the chair, I would run him off. He seldom poops on me or in the utility room,
except while perched on my desk lamp arm, under which is a folded newspaper upon
which he may dump, with impunity.
He learned that taking offence to my ear lobe or similar abusive behavior would
earn an immediate right hook, hard enough to discourage a future attempt but not
enough to injure him.
Like a bird in the wild, he can find whatever satisfaction is possible to him
for behavior I tolerate, and instant to near instant "grief" for any
activity I disapprove of. Watching bird activity around a bird feeder will give
the layman a good idea of the cause and effect relationship Pokey and I have. As
social creatures we both enjoy social interaction and activities that we find
pleasurable and both of us detest pain and emotional distress. It's simple.
How many birds have a natural understanding of prison as a consequence of
undesirable behavior? An immediate sharp peck in the eye, maybe; the
slammer, no. I do not use the cage for punishment. I use it as his place of
refuge, food and water. After using a peanut for initial attempts to induce him
into his cage (the only use for peanuts, in my opinion, is as an inducement to
motivate desirable behavior) along with "get in your cage", the phrase
alone will suffice and/or a waving hand over the cage to "herd" him
through the cage door. He is at his cage when we are ready to leave the house,
always, as long as the the living room is well lit.
He sleeps in the utility room, under a stuffed rabbit ear, the owner of which
resides in a hanging basket. He spends almost as much time in my hobby utility
room as he does in the living room. He flies back and forth or walks along the
floor foraging for "stuff" or exploring that which moves him, at the
time.
The Shelties may or may not take interest in Pokey's airborne or terrestrial
travels. They chase him, often, when he is in flight, but seldom show more than
curiosity when he is on the floor. A family member might yell at the dogs or
Pokey to "Stop it!", which Samantha is just as likely to repeat with
names, volume and conviction to match. I have watched Pokey's tail feathers
touched on numerous occasions but no damage done. For 3 years the dogs have
failed to eat the bird. I have always discouraged dogs from chasing wildlife, to
kill. My dogs have my implicit approval to chase critters for a short distance,
but my explicit disapproval to go beyond that.
Pokey lived with my German Shepherd - Golden Retriever mutt for 7 years years,
starting when the dog was 4 years old, with no chasing, under the same
circumstances. I know that mutt had killed an occasional rabbit, duck, mouse or
woodchuck when in my company. As I said, at home I am boss. I suspect that
attitude, regarding bonded pets, has maintained an enviable record, to date.
Pokey had one dangerous behavior I made an effort to protect him from, by the
use of a mechanical device. He would chew the electric cord to my desk lamp
where it exited the articulated arm and passed through a grommet into the lamp
housing. I replaced the cord twice, because he exposed the bare copper strands
of one conductor or the other. As soon as I was concentrating on some project he
would be chewing again, regardless of my previous "counseling". He
eventually chewed through the insulation of the third cord and started to fray
the wire strands. I watched the day he finally got two opposite conductor
strands to touch. A flash of light, a loud POP!, the smell of ozone and he was a
streak of green lightning in his haste to disappear. In less than 20 minutes he
was back again, chewing. He didn't learn, about that cord, anyway. Maybe he
perceived it as a threat, groceries, .... I dunno.
I replaced the cord again, passing the exposed section described through a
flexible coiled steel spring about 3" long. It is flexible enough to allow
full movement of the lamp housing but stout enough to protect the cord. He spent
little effort looking for the cord. Maybe "out of sight, out of mind".
I do not recollect the time I noticed him chewing on another cord, even though
he spends much time on the floors.
For all those that lament my horrible treatment of Pokey, he has never seen a
vet for 12 years. He has never been injured except for the sore toe I gave him,
pinching it between the cage door and its frame. He has never been sick or acted
"poorly" for that same length of time. He lives with the dust bunnies,
food particles, chemicals, hazardous materials and whatever detritus and
microscopic critters may be found in my house. He is a member of the household,
in good standing, with all rights of travel and expression subject to my will.
While perched on my shoulder, he has ventured, accidentally, into the great
outdoors a number of times, in Summer and sub zero weather, and has never chosen
to fly.
I suspect we have a mutual beneficial understanding, though I have yet to test
that theory by encouraging him to fly outside.
Samantha, the used B&G, I purchased 1 year ago, when she was around two
years old, has thrived under similar conditions. I even let her primaries grow
out this past Winter, but she is too "spooky" for me to be confident
about maintaining her health flying around the house. She is a big clutz,
startled into flight, easily, with the agility of a heavy bomber in my
cracker-box house. She has banged into windows half a dozen times, at low
speeds, looking for a "safe" place to land, in any direction. There is
insufficient room to provide more than a place to crash land.
I clipped her wings two weeks ago, and will probably keep them that way.
PS, If you understand birds and have "my" view of avian life, you
could do worse than own a used bird. I drove Samantha from Austin, Texas, where
I purchased her from a surgeon, to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, in the back
of a Cavalier station wagon. She took food from my fingers during break stops,
said "hello" to a few curious adults and children and scared the poop
out of me with that intimidating beak and claws. A year later she has become an
affectionate blabber mouth, suffering from abuse similar to Pokey's.
Neither bird has ever drawn blood and I have never worn gloves handling either
one. I trim the B&G's wings, nails and beak as I deem necessary. Yes, the
B&G hangs out on my shoulder, with my explicit permission, but not with the
Conure at the same time.
I hope the details of my bragging may help, Linda.
Peter Markham,
Manistique, Mi.
PS. This post describes some of my personal experience, knowledge and views, in
the context of a good general knowledge concerning the care of my birds. It is
not to be considered as a comprehensive work concerning all my activity and
knowledge, concerning my alien charges.