I have a story. It's kind of a long one, I'm afraid. I hope I'm not mis-interpreting the thread.
FOR THE BIRDS
by lkalliance
When I was a young lad, my father brought home a parakeet. We named him "Cougie," and Dad picked the name because it was mostly sounds that parakeets can pick up easily. We loved Cougie, my brothers and I. He would ride around on our shoulders, and he was at ease around everyone. We never clipped his wings, he had the run of the house. When the family sat around the dinner table, Cougie would wander around, picking food off of peoples' plates. Every night, we would cover up his cage, turn out the lights, and someone would sit in the kitchen with him, repeating slowly and clearly whatever phrase we wanted to teach him.
I have no pictures of Cougie.
I'd like to add an emotional heft to the story by suggesting it's because I did something stupid that led to Coupe's demise (true) and that I have spent my life living it down (not true) and thus I have burned all the photos of him (definitely not true). I think it's because this was 1977 or so, and we just didn't have anyone that was spending a lot of time on photography, and no iPhones to just whip out at a moment's notice.
BUT...
...years later, my wife and I had an obstacle: she was allergic to dogs, I was allergic to cats. Our solution? Our solution was Blue.
Blue was named such because we thought it was funny to name a green parakeet Blue. In fact that was one of the first things we taught him to say: "I'm GREEN." With attitude. He also could say "Hello there," and "Blue bird," and "Pain in the butt."
My daughter learned to interact with Blue as well.
Blue was with us for several years, until he passed. He was a great parakeet.
But there was someone else coming on the horizon...