Peachy Pie

Thursday, March 07, 2024

This morning, while I brewed coffee, an old song entered my mind and got me singing aloud. Now, hours later, I can’t recall that song, but I remember delight upon hearing my cockatoo, Peaches, join in and sing along. I love it when Peaches sings and makes sweet sounds.

It’s very different from Peaches’ typical screams, which sometimes continue for what feels like forever. He’s an excellent watchbird and warns when anything different appears beyond the windows he’s parked beside. He becomes alerted to happenings not in his vision by noticing differences in my dogs’ sounds. If the dogs are barking in alarm (it’s always evident), Peaches joins and barks along with them. Yep, Mr. Peaches is a fine watchbird.

After years of living with this boy, I’m more or less accustomed to his noisiness. I’m used to his noisy gusto greetings to the changing lights in dawnings and evenings. I usually ignore his screamings, but not when trying to concentrate on something totally non-Peaches. If his screams get to me, there’s no use telling him, “Quit.” Peaches is his own being; he does his thing.

His singing is something else—almost lyrical and always smooth; his sounds could accompany some lyrics. I can’t recognize the songs, but clearly, Peaches is copying “his humans” that preceded me. Cockatoos are natural copiers.

This makes me wonder what he’s learned and copied during our years together. Maybe barking like a dog is new, and maybe he has new sounds from our singing duets. I ought to mention that Peaches has great rhythm; he dances to music like a bird on fire. Mr. Firebird!

Dear Friends: Bird intelligence encourages our admiration of the entire species. Diana

Magesty

Saturday, December 30, 2023

These are the days of drizzle and fog. The outside is muddy, and the vision is cloudy. Those who yearn to be out skiing are the only complainers about the local condition of too little or no snow.

I love to go walking in a light drizzle. Dampness in the air, and overall, fosters an atmosphere that is gentle and peaceful and creates an almost magical area. I walk in my neighborhood with my Cockatoo, Peaches, on my shoulder. He loves being in damp air, too, and even more than me, because moisture fluffs his feathers and helps them thrive.

When we’re not out walking in a drizzle, I will spray Peaches with water that’s clear and at room temperature. He loves those showers and raises his wings to greet the warm water. To be honest, sometimes he’s busy, maybe tearing up a toy and uninterested in receiving a shower. Then he flutters around and screams.

I’m used to his screaming. Cockatoos do lots of that. Peaches greets every dawn with screams and says his good nights the same. Besides, he’s a watchbird, sees everything that happens in a large portion of our outdoors, and announces through long stretches. If he has no visual as to what’s going on, he correctly interprets the dogs’ barks and joins their noise.

While very special, my frequent walks through this winter’s gentle and peaceful atmosphere are also worrisome. More warmth from a changing climate threatens water supplies in this high desert area. Our local mountains now host annual snowpacks that are less dense, reducing the natural water runoffs that once abundantly flowed to nourish this essentially landlocked area.

Dear Friends: This area is still magical, but one searches more to find its majesty. Diana