Introducing, the new bird.

Already settling on the name, Moose sits apprehensively on my wrist; this is just a few minutes after cooing him to come out the cardboard box. He is 8 weeks old.

Anyway I’ve done the rainforest thing, returned to civilized society and got a woman and job, then broke up with the woman and subsequently got a better job just to shove it up her.

I’ve got my little cabin in the heart of the Blue Mountains and everything’s just about fine except for coming home every day.

Coming home alone every day.

I hate coming back to an empty house; you might as well be dead if you’re working all day just to get home and hear nothing but the neighbors, the families and other couples around you all sharing their day-to-day life with one another, arguing, laughing, talking, I never even think about it unless I’m single, but when I am it irritates me.

Irritates me that I’ve backed the wrong horse yet again and ended-up alone because someone I’ve sunk so much time into either didn’t really want anyone to start with, or has allowed her head to become so full of politically correct group-think bullshit that she sees men as the enemy and acts that way almost constantly.

I’d just split-up with that last woman and wasn’t quite feeling up for a new one yet, so a pet was the only logical answer I could see though, of all the animals a person can have as a pet, birds have always rated pretty low in my book; somewhere down there with goldfish, reptiles and mice; you buy them on a whim and they’ll probably die but you know they’re small enough to flush so you don’t care.

How a parrot came to mind I have no idea, but – logically at least – it ticked all the boxes: less needy than a dog, more hands-on than a fish; I don’t have to walk a parrot twice a day, don’t have to take it outside and play a stupid game with a stupid ball just to stimulate a dogs tiny stupid brain and unlike a fish; I can take a bird out it’s cage and handle it, then just stick it back when I’ve had enough. Perfect.

After a full night flicking through “baby parrots for sale” ads, Gumtree eventually spits out a breeder who’s in Katoomba and has birds available.

Excellent; close and quick and easy.

I ring the breeder and she tells me she still has baby Conures, that they’ve just finished being hand-weaned but there’s only two left.

I ask “how’s 11:30am tomorrow?”, she says that’s fine and that was that, almost. She then points out that she’s actually in Bullaburra, not Katoomba and that Gumtree had got something wrong.

I don’t mind – all the other breeders seem to be in Penrith or further away, and although I would’ve settled on any parrot-family relative at this point, she’s got the breed of bird I wanted to begin with so straight after work tomorrow morning I’ll go get the little sucker.

Next morning after work, I get a cab home to quickly hang some toys in the new birds temporary cage before heading for Bullaburra to collect the animal.

The taxi driver – an obese 60+ year old man with doughy grey skin and a few tufts of  hair still sagging over his scalp – tells me he likes to get out to nudist beaches when he can, then, after a far too detailed retelling of the story of the foxy young woman who would join him there yeah ..fuck ..yuck, just let me clear that mental image a moment.

Right, so just as I’m about to get out the car, he tells me he likes birds and will do a lift from the breeders place to mine for not a cent more than $35. I tell him that’s cheap, sure gimme your card. He gives me his card and I tell him I’ll ring when I’ve got the parrot.

I can’t find a photo of the little cage I got him to start with; it was pretty small though but I filled it with toys and left for the breeders place.

t this point she couldn’t say which sex either bird was, because both genders of Conure look identical; there’s no flashier colours on the male or any other physical indicators.

You have to DNA test baby Conures feathers to determine gender, and she’d already arranged that: the DNA test results should be back today or tomorrow so she can tell me then.

Taken just seconds after I opened the top flaps on the box, we see a clearly sceptical young parrot not at all sure what’s going on. ❤

Introducing, the new bird.
5 Guidos (2 ratings)

Jason
Animal-loving cleaner with a parrot.

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