For anyone who wonders why I love my birds, let me tell you this story.
I put Abdul, my African Gray Parrot, on my counter while I cut up a pineapple. I took the top of the pineapple and put it on the counter where she was in case she wanted to chew on it or shred it or destroy it in some other creative way. Parrots love destroying things and this seemed like a good idea. But that pineapple top was new to her and strange and scary. In the wild, parrots are a prey animal and so they tend to be very cautious around the unknown. You never know when something might suddenly jump up and eat you.
I turned my back on her as I continued cutting the pineapple up. A few minutes went by and then she started whistling a very non-chalant, “I’m-not-worried-you-can’t-scare-me” whistle. I turned and watched her saunter carefully around the pineapple top, all the while whistling and pretending that she wasn’t really noticing it was there. With each new whistle, she took another step towards the top. Then she’d back up and then she’d go forward again. She continued this till she was actually up to the pineapple top and could bite it.
And then, alas, her courage failed her and she came running over to me telling me she loved me over and over again.
And people wonder why I have parrots. Could there be a better life than mine with Abdul and all the rest of the flock? I think not.