Imagine spending 20 years of your life in a dank basement with no windows. No sunshine, ever, just fluorescent lights set to a timer. You live in a rusty wire cage, hanging from the ceiling, and your excrement stains the walls around you. The only contact you ever get is when a man comes down the stairs to give you food and water, and to check if you have produced anything that could benefit him… an egg.
My household expanded a few weeks ago when I brought home Pippi and Monkey, two of the 22 birds Wendy and I rescued from a hoarder last month. The woman and her husband had over 80 parrots, around half of which were breeders living in the basement I described above. All the ones we took came from down there.
There are 14 still left down in the basement, and it broke our hearts not to take them. But the woman wouldn’t let us. We were lucky to get 22. We went there to take 12, but convinced her to surrender the other 10 to us. One step at a time, I guess. Maybe someday she will let us take all her birds… but the 14 in the basement are the ones who really need it. Those are who we really want out.
I had no desire to add more critters to my household, but the only way we got Pippi and Monkey out was by me telling the woman that I personally would adopt them. I didn’t really mean it, but over the course of the five-hour drive home, I realized maybe I did. Already in their 20s, they will not be a life-long commitment to me, but I can guarantee them a happy ending… sunshine, fresh food, and attention for however many years they have left.
While the other birds from that rescue are, well, let’s just say “more difficult,” mine are incredibly well-adjusted. They really just wanted some attention, and now that they have it, they are so happy. They sit on my shoulders while I eat my breakfast and pick food off my spoon or lips. Pippi has grown especially fond of me and likes snuggle up to my neck, crawl inside my shirt, and has even started trying to regurgitate food for me… which may sound gross, but is actually something they do out of love. They are loud little shits, but I think I might love them just as much as they love me… just don’t expect me to throw up any of my food for them.
by Sarah
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