I Am A Crazy Bird Lady

To most of the people who know me, I am a Cat Lady, the ‘crazy’ kind, as it is endearingly described. I joke that I was a Crazy Cat Lady before it was cool; the joke, of course, being that it was never uncool.

Cats have always been a part of my home and my clothing. I have rescued cats, did a little TNR (Trap-Neuter-Release) with some ferals, and found quite a few homes for others with people needing to upgrade their households. I was even lucky enough to have a cat at work for a time. Killer, our Station 57 Cat became a huge sensation on Instagram (@station57cat) and was featured on the Dodo and in several magazines.

So, when a bird found its way into my life there were no assumptions about keeping it. Predator and prey under the same roof didn’t make for peaceful living conditions. But my husband and I quickly became attached to the feathery little creature and well, now we have a bird.

Since I already had a predilection for a “crazy” honorific attached to my name, it was truly only a matter of time before the bird joined my descriptive persona. There is a huge difference between being a crazy cat lady and a crazy bird lady, however. A Crazy Cat Person is someone who is associated with felines. We have them, we’re attached to them, we like them. A Crazy Bird Lady needs to engage in a few busy-body behaviors before the title can be held with pride.

Caring for our little cockatiel led to a massive search for information, and some soul searching. Unlike dogs and cats, birds never voluntarily left the forest in search of the advantages living near humans could bring them, which led to their domestication. The other animals that share our homes had thousands of generations to adapt to these new conditions their human companions provided. For parrots, being plucked out of the forest and into a cage for the sake of novelty, the trajectory has been decidedly different.

The parrots you see at the pet store are still wild animals. Their instincts are wild and there is nothing inherent that differentiates them from their wild relatives. They can be tamed, somewhat, as many wild animals can, but their needs, physical, social, and psychological, remain the same as their counterparts living in the jungles along the equator. It became apparent that whatever environment we humans provide to our feathery loved one, it pales to the life their inclinations tell them they need.

The reason so many parrots are abandoned and rehomed (the average bird lives in eight different homes in its lifetime) is because many aren’t prepared for the wild behaviors birds normally exhibit and aren’t prepared for the aftermath when the bird reacts to the deprivation of his expected needs.

In general, parrots are loud, demanding, and require a lot of attention. They’re also incredibly messy. My guys seem to take great delight in alleviating the dearth of food and food waste on the floors of their room once I’ve cleaned. They’re not being assholes, well OK, maybe they are, but in the wild it’s just one of the things they normally do. As part of the natural ecosystem, they’re just re-seeding the forest floor as they eat. Being good residents, they’re ensuring future generations will have sustenance.

Yes, I said “guys”; we have two birds now. We got Gomez a pal because in the wild they are never alone. As prey animals, the flock provides them with safety and identity. They see themselves as part of a whole and not as individuals. It’s central to many behaviors and the way they react to their surroundings. Humans with experience and great empathy can attempt to become their flock and many do successfully. It still comes off as another adaptation and compromise a bird is forced into, in my opinion, and as an evolving Crazy Bird Lady, I’ve got lots of them.

Becoming a Crazy Bird Lady, admittedly, doesn’t really take that much effort, if you do it right. All you need to do is point out how flying is one of the most amazing qualities birds possess and that it seems a bit like resentful envy to clip wings. When you make this intrusive announcement, you’ll probably have a bit of bird poop in a very conspicuous place on your clothing (along with the cat hair if you’re going for the dual title), which will solidify your ranking in the Crazy column.

Wing clipping is a controversial topic in many parrot circles. Although I take the “no” side, I can admit that there are situations where it is acceptable, temporarily, perhaps. But there is one stance where I point my fist in the air unwaveringly, and that is my anti-cage position. Maybe I should clarify; I am OK with the cage, not OK with imprisonment. My birds have a cage. You need some sort of structure to attach a huge assortment of brightly colored toys for them to systematically destroy. Having a cage also gives them a nice, central location from which to toss their food products onto the floor. Many birds get night frights causing them to fly around erratically when they’re suddenly spooked. For safety reasons, the cage provides good place for them to sleep inside.

But there are far too many birds spending all day in their small little prisons. And there are far too many prisons that are ridiculously small. People who were expecting an immediately friendly feathery animal to make fun videos sometimes discover that instead, they’ve got a shy, distrustful stranger who bites. It can lead to a cycle where patience is eradicated and the bird ends up in solitary confinement, developing all of the severe psychological problems that go along with that.

Thankfully most people try to rehome the animals they don’t understand. Some parrots do adapt to their situation. I don’t necessarily think it means they’re living a happy, enjoyable life, but perhaps only that they’ve figured out a way to compensate that doesn’t involve plucking out all of their feathers.

My first foray into official Crazy Bird Lady accreditation occurred as I was shopping for bird supplies in a bird store near my home. A man brought in his magnificent African Grey for talon trimming and wing clipping. He proudly told the woman working there that Harry gets a “full hour” out of his cage every day. During that hour he couldn’t have Harry getting into trouble by flying any distance beyond the immediate vicinity of the man who kept him in the cage for the other 23, I surmised. I knew nothing about the man or the care he gave this bird outside of the confinement but I offered my comments about Stockholm Syndrome anyway. It turned out he knew other bird owners who never let their birds emerge from the little prisons they provided. They were being bitten and attacked. He genuinely thought an hour was more than enough time for Harry to stretch his clipped wings since he didn’t attack him when he did. We ended up having a nice discussion about it and Harry’s man agreed, when seeing it from a captive wild animal’s perspective, that being aggressive toward a captor didn’t seem so unreasonable.

I’m still unleashing my unasked-for opinions about the needs of parrots with every opportunity, in a friendly, helpful way (at least I hope that’s the way I come across). Now that my eyes have been opened to the sad conditions so many of these beautiful intelligent animals have to endure, I’m determined to try and open the eyes of everyone else as well, or at least change the perspective. It breaks my heart knowing how many birds are incarcerated for the only crime of being interesting and colorful.

I’ve never been someone who is comfortable having attention drawn to me. I embarrass fairly easily and choose not to be in a position where I’d have an audience see me when it happens. Getting a couple of cockatiels has turned me into someone who inches her way over to be the nosy interloper in conversation. It bothers me a little that I’ve become one of those people, I’ll admit. But remaining silent would bother me more.

It also doesn’t sit well with me that handing out opinions even though I’m not really any kind of bird authority. I’m just a regular person who has, relatively recently, started living with a pair of judgmental cockatiels. Some people even refer to my ‘tiels as ‘starter birds’. (DON’T get me started on THAT) Who the hell am I to be giving out bird advice?

All I can say is that I don’t know much about owning an orca but I’ve got some pretty strong ideas about Sea World.

I’m still a Cat Lady (the Crazy kind). I’m just also a Bird lady. The big difference is that my Cat Lady persona is kind of funny and well liked. It means I have cats, I like them, I’m experienced with them, ask me anything, I have an answer. My Crazy Bird persona is more of an advocacy. In all honesty I care about animals of all kinds, so maybe Crazy Animal Lady is more accurate. Better yet, Crazy Sentient Being Lady, because I’ve plenty of significant viewpoints regarding the way humans are treated as well.