I knew something was off when my sister thought it necessary to caution me about dating decorum. You see, she said,  not all people, men in particular, are comfortable with birds flying around the living room. Or parked above them on the ceiling fan. She was just being a good big sister and didn’t want to see my dating life thwarted by bird possession. Although we were raised by the same parents, she thought I missed something in the area of common sense.

She also reminded me, thank you very much, that as a middle-aged woman, the male pickings are slim.

The way I look at it is, if a man can’t deal with a small bird landing on his head or a little bird poo on his clothing (accidentally, of course) then he doesn’t have any sense of humor. I wouldn’t want to be with him anyway.

It’s like cat allergies. Nearly all the men in my life have allegedly had them and it was a real problem. Sometimes used as an excuse to end our date early, sometimes just down right annoying to deal with. All that scratching and sniffling. Men with cat allergies are now off my list.

It will take a pretty relaxed and tolerant guy to adapt to my menagerie.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those women who share their domicile with a couple dozen birds. My avian count is under five and I intend to keep it that way. As a matter of fact. I’m at the manageable number of four.

I am happy to say that I do not qualify as “bird lady.”  That is, in my own estimation. Surely, you need to house more than four birds to earn that moniker.

The breakdown of birds is as follows: three parrotlets (miniature parrots) and one cockatiel. Do keep in mind there is a cat, but that species will be little mentioned in this story. At the moment there is one, long-haired orange tabby cat.  And, he’s an angel. Raised with his bird brothers and sister, Mochi’s natural instinct is so well contained that I think sometimes he forgets that he’s living with his natural enemies.  Or shall we whisper, his prey?

The parrotlets are two male Green Rumps which are distinguished by the blue feathers that line their emerald green wings. Kiwi and Tito hail from the same bird breeder and both inherited an incurable penchant for feather plucking. However, they are smart enough to keep their flight wings intact. And, smart they are.

The blue one, Cyan, well, she’s another story. We’ll get back to her in just a moment.

My lone cockatiel, bless his little bird heart, is Rashi. After losing Chalil, my first cockatiel (see story…), a rescued bird named Rashi moved in. While I thought I never could replace Chalil, Rashi who looks like his predecessor’s twin has turned out to please me to no end.

His attributes: 1) He knows what “get in your cage” means (and obeys the command about 50% of the time) ; 2) He came equipped with a whistled morning tune that we think is a birdie version of “Revele”; 3) He allows his mini- parrot siblings to bully him even though he is three times their size; 4) and, he is obsessed (in a good way) with newspaper. What this means is, when he’s not parading on top of or under newspapers that are laid out on the coffee table, he is willing to be the ball in an odd rendition of catch.  If one shakes a newspaper wildly in the air, Rashi will eventually land on that person’s arm. If another person does the same, Rashi will find them. Children love this and so do I. Did I mention that Rashi’s great with kids? Great bird, all around

Okay, Cyan.

This blue parrotlet,  is of superior intelligence to the green ones who I had already deemed as very bright birds. And, they are.

My first clue about Cyan’s smarts was when I found her using her foot to help brace her food while dining on various seeds, veggies and fruits. Kind of like a monkey. The green ones and Rashi exclusively peck with their beaks. I found this little trick of Cyan’s to be very surprising.

Which leads to other manifestations of her bird brain superiority. She’s queen of the brood and intimidates each and every one of the gang. No one is safe. Not even, Tito, who’s reign she’s stolen. This once bird bully king has acquiesced to Princess Cyan.

Cyan will also fly to land on some part of my body, usually my head, from any destination in my apartment. That includes navigating corners of rooms and partially opened doors.  She’ll walk down my forehead, grab a hold of one or two hairs from my bangs and dangle like an upside down submarine periscope. In this position she can see everything that I see and assess whether it looks like something she needs to take a closer look at by jumping on it. Usually, we’re talking about food. If it’s broccoli or millet seed, she’s in.

Another trick Cyan performs is the unhinging of jewelry. It’s become sport for her to unhook my silver hoop earrings. At the oddest moments, I’ll feel an earring slide down my neck onto the floor or catch my necklace before it falls down my shirt. There’s something about shiny things that has attracted every one of my birds.

Blue little devil bird.  She’s also too smart (or vain, like me) to pluck her beautiful powder blue, actually Cyan blue, feathers. Trust me, she’s a looker.I’m pretty sure she’s so smart because she’s a she.

I could be wrong, but I just had to throw that in.

Now for a brief report on the multiple-bird housing dramas.

I once sat on Tito. Yes, as in massive buttocks bearing down on tiny creature. Our local bird vet miraculously brought the lifeless microscopic guy back to full recovery in just hours.

Rashi’s crashed into the sliding glass door a number of times. But, it was only once that his hard head didn’t easily shake off the trauma. Leaving an imprint of himself in full wing-span in dander dust, Rashi dwelled in intensive care for three days. That meant living in an oxygen tank at the vet hospital with me at home praying. It was very scary.

So far so good. The family of birds is living peacefully in my 15^th floor seaside apartment. They’ve pretty much given up on competing with the neighborhood gulls, pigeons, crows and garden variety birds that fly by our terrace window. When provoked, Rashi sometimes pretends he’s flying with them and circles madly around the living room when in his view (while screaming) or he’s just plain scared.

It’s hard to tell.

I try to be a good mother to my brood and give Mochi (the cat) equal time. He gets me late at night and first thing in the morning. Then most of the day (when I’m home) is bird time.

What can I say?

Oh, the dating thing. So far I’ve been pretty lucky. The men that have come through her (yes, plural) have been good sports. Some have even engaged in play with the birds. No one has been bitten on the lip or missing a cuff link.

I did have one date tell me that he never dated a woman with more than two birds. We had a lovely lunch and I haven’t heard from him since.

His loss.

May the bird force be with you!

This story is one of two written by yours truly for the upcoming HCI title, The Ultimate Bird Lover, available in Spring 2010.

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