We have a Sun Conure, a small parrot with a lifespan of about 20-25 years. We’ve had her for eight years now and up until October of 2010, we thought she was a male. Then she started laying eggs.
I had many panicked conversations with our exotic-pet veterinarian about how to help her through that time in her life and how to prevent it from happening again: I needed to give her a safe place to lay her eggs, let her brood them, then remove anything from her cage that could be deemed a good place to incubate eggs.
She sat on those infertile eggs for six weeks; it was like we didn’t have a bird at all. One day she started chewing inside the cabinet where she had laid the eggs. My husband was peeking in, trying to talk her out of her destructive behavior, when she nosed an egg toward him, “Here, I’ll give you an egg if you’ll let me chew this delectable wood.”
So I took the eggs away and our bird came back to us. I covered the cubby where she formerly played; I took out her “happy hut,” which was a tent-shaped, cozy thing hanging in her cage; and quit using newspaper to line the bottom because she tore it up to make a nest.
The last element I had to eliminate was me. I had become her partner, so every time I held her, she wanted to mate with me. This sounds gross, I know, but it’s easily interpreted as cuddly and cute to us humans (I did a lot of research). However, knowing she still needed human interaction to keep her friendly and social, my oldest daughter took over.
Fast forward five years and my daughter, who turned 20 last week, is in college and has moved out of the house. She occasionally comes home for a few days, at which time she and the bird bond and play and romp and run slowly across the room into each other’s wings. Then my daughter goes back to her digs and the bird has a major meltdown.
Her reaction reminds me of when my youngest was born and my husband was working 2nd shift. He’d get up with my oldest, who was 2 ½, play with her all morning and take off for work around 1 or 2 in the afternoon. Then my oldest would look to me, the exhausted mom with a newborn who wasn’t particularly fond of sleeping, to entertain her the same way her father had all morning.
She would have a fit over my lame attempts at amusement at which point, I’m ashamed to admit, the TV was my best friend. Needless to say, the angels were singing the day my husband got back on a normal shift so my oldest could live a routine which was more practical for me.
The bird acts the same way for about two days after my daughter leaves. She screams, she screeches, she carries on. I do my best, but don’t have the time or patience to sit and coddle her for hours on end like my daughter does.
My daughter can’t take her because she lives in an apartment and Conures are one of the noisiest parrot breeds. Plus, I dare say the bird is used to having someone around all day, even if it’s just me, and probably wouldn’t like living with a busy student who wasn’t home as much.
For better or for worse, she’s stuck with me and I with her. She’s forever a toddler; at least she won’t grow up and move away from home.
Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can also read more of her writing and her daily blog on her website livingwithgleigh.com or on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh.” Her column is available every week atmaplevalleyreporter.com under the Lifestyles section.
