My blue budgie obi is just learning to warble fragments of song - a tune that I sing faithfully to him everyday. Obi looks at me intently when he’s in a chattering mood, and I hear echos of my own vocal inflections and rare, but occasionally clear “hi, obi.”
Obi was acting lonely a month after we brought him home, talking to his mirrored self; so I picked up a green friend for him. Mango is much more shy than obi ever was and hides in the corner when I approach. They seem to like each other, like siblings. They preen each other and share food, but also squabble in a raucous of feathers and squacks. I tell them not to use their ugly voices… but to tell the truth, they probably hear ugly voices from Chris and I. The parental addage, “Do as I say, not as I do.”
I never thought I’d be a doting pet parent… I was wrong. These little creatures brighten the day with their very aliveness and unpredictability. They are an avian meditation. I watch them, look at the clock, and realize that an hour or more has flown by. I watch them, and feel a sense of joy return.
