Category Archives: birds
I wish people came in as vibrant of colors.
Remember Aramis, the self-mutilating cockatoo I posted about a few weeks ago? Well, I hung out with him again, and it was… interesting. Yesterday, I got to witness some of his obsessive compulsive behavior. He tears a piece of paper off a phonebook, holds it in his beak, puts it in his foot, holds it in his foot while he presses his chest with his beak, puts the paper back in his beak, and then drops the paper… and then he does it all over again, and again, and again. If he screws up (say he drops the paper before before he’s pressed his chest), he starts over again (and continues to do so until he gets it right). It is completely bizarre to watch.
He is doing better, but still has a long way to go. He now likes to play, have dance parties, and hang out with another cockatoo named Seppi, but he also still picks himself raw, and has his crazy OCD routine. Little by little though, he is starting to see that he is indeed a bird… and that life as a bird ain’t so bad.
Florida… I dig it. And yes, I swam with manatees. They like belly rubs. It was life-changing.
Preschool that is.
This is Aramis. He’s special. He has some issues. His owner raised him wrong. She babied him, taking him everywhere, always petting him like he was a cat. This is not good. Cockatoos should only be stroked on their head and neck. Touching their back is somewhat like a sexual touch. It’s something they do when they mate. So when they are touched on their back, their body releases a lot of hormones… really, really feel-good hormones. The way I see it, if we were to put it into human terms, Aramis was pretty much in a state of constant orgasm. So it’s no wonder than when he’s lived his whole life like that, he starts to go a little crazy when he’s not being pet. He began plucking out his feathers, and eventually tearing away at his own skin. The self-mutilation may be his way of letting his body release endorphins while he’s not getting the bad touch. His owner had every test imaginable done on Aramis to find out what the problem was, until her vets told her that she was the problem, and that she had to stop petting his back. She couldn’t do it, and had the choice of either destroying her beloved bird, or handing him over to people who could right her wrongs. She did the latter, gave him to Best Friends, and now Aramis is getting some tough love. He wears the collar to help minimize his plucking, and though he gets constant love and attention, to his dismay, his back doesn’t get touched… only his neck and head. It’s sad to watch because he desperately wants to be touched on his back, he positions himself so that is natural to touch him there, but he doesn’t get it. It’s for his own good. Eventually, he’ll hopefully be placed with other birds, and maybe someday he’ll get that touch again… the right way.
Like I said before, I like the bird department. Meet Robin, Roxie, Skittles, Cromwell, Pen, and Paco… the residents of the bird isolation building in downtown Gunsmoke City (that is what I call my town… you should get used to it).
I’m deathly ill and in no mood for writing anything other than this: Here are some photos from my first few days.
Anyone who knows me knows I love animals. As the daughter of a mustang trainer, it is only natural. I’ve had so many animals in my life that I’ve lost count. I was a PETA member at age 12. By 13, I was boycotting all the bad companies and was the only vegetarian in school. I wrote all my reports and gave all my speeches on animal rights. Even into college, animals still had a way of making their way into my schoolwork (though more often in humorous ways). Once graduated, I applied to half my internships with a portfolio of nothing but animals. It was risky, but always paid off. And because of this, editors have always known to give me the assignments pertaining to animals. In a nutshell, animals have always been a huge part of my life.
So as shocking as it may be, it should really come as no surprise to anyone – my friends and family, old teachers and coworkers – that I have quit my job at the newspaper to go work for a non-profit animal rescue organization. Say what?! Bet you didn’t see that one coming.
Don’t go too crazy just yet. I am still a photographer, still a journalist (this I will always be). I am just trading in some human subjects for a few more animal ones. I’ll be shooting for a magazine (the nation’s largest animal one), traveling the country (and the world) documenting incredible rescues and inspiring stories, and just hanging out at the 33,000-acre sanctuary with nearly 2,000 amazing animals (and about 400 amazing people).
I won’t lie, I am scared. I am scared out of my mind to leave my life here behind, but I feel there are so many more reasons for me to go than for me to stay. And so, in the coming weeks, I will pack my things and head south to start my new life, yet again. New adventures await me. The animals need me.
Here are just a small few (yet still a lot) of photos from my first visit to my new job.
This is Dancer, left, and Thumper. Dancer is a “wobbly cat,” meaning he has neurological problems that make him walk funny and spasm. He stays pretty still once he’s laying down though. Thumper, the cute black one, is paralyzed in his hind legs, so he just scoots around in a seated position. They are both playful snugglebutts.
Towbin is as big as I am and this picture makes me laugh.
The sanctuary also rehabilitates wild animals, such as this loon, which is not at all native to the area and wasn’t near any water. Loons can only take off from water, so if they accidentally land on land, they are unable to take off again until they find water. And with feet not made for walking on land, that is a hard task. This guy was in pretty bad shape.
Ginger as she’s being adopted
This is Nani, being cute
bushbaby
a toothless kitty
This is Gentry. Two days before, he had a leg amputated. But he was just as chipper, and walked as well, as if he still had all four.
This is a new Guardian Angel dog. Guardian Angel animals are especially special-needs animals who get extra-special care.
and a pretty kitty… because kitties are pretty
