Berta, the No-Love Bird 


Pets can be a trial, and we can learn a lot about ourselves in the process. 

I haven't talked a lot about our pets in this blog, which is amazing, considering Stephen and I have always had pets throughout our 22 year relationship. One of them is Berta, an African Love Bird, and amazing animal, and, as Stephen said today, a true bitch. There are 9 varieties of this bird, and Berta is the peach-faced kind. She has a lot going for her. She talks, saying things like, "Pretty beast!" "Lovely beast,!" or just "Beast!" This, in part, shows her intelligence in realizing what she really is. There is definitely intelligence projecting from those cold bird eyes of hers.

Time was when I hated Berta, or, well, I got as close to hating her as I am capable of. I knew that when she looked at me, she was nearly always thinking, "If you were just a little bit smaller, you would be delicious." I didn't need to get bitten over and over again when feeding her (and I didn't) to know that as soon as I stuck my unprotected hand in her cage, she would try to bite it off. Stephen, however, always seemed surprised, and since he was her main feeder and cage cleaner, we never went a week without me hearing a shouting match between the two of them coming from the back bathroom, where she is kept.

My friend, Rosanda, is a nasty pet protector, and will tell on people when they "neglect" their pets. And so she would regularly call Stephen to check on my behavior towards Berta, and try to "embarrass" me in front of my other friends for animal cruelty. Well, there was definitely animal cruelty involved, but my behavior was strictly self-protective and rational. But as the years of unrelenting bird-human cruelty have rolled on, I have become quite peaceful about this murderous animal in our midst. "Berta is Stephen's pet." I thought. "He has a right to this pet, as long as it is he that takes care of her. He doesn't need my editorial comments on how stupid it is to have such a hateful pet. So I will just bite my lip, and go to the plastic surgeon if it gets too disfigured." Then I would have a drink and marvel at how wonderfully long-suffering I had become.

You may not yet have the picture. Stephen is devoted to his pets. Pet toys are a huge item in his budget. Our cat, Midas, has baskets of toys, only mostly not in the basket. But Berta has ever kind of bird ladder, bird trapeze, red bird plaything, blue bird diversion, rainbow colored push toy with wheels, green squiggly thing en cage, and purple bird see-saw and orange bird ramp you can imagine. You would think she would be a happy bird. Mostly, I see her trying to dislodge the plain white feeding cup with her head while I am in my evening bath. She looks really mad to me. She has parrot food, love bird food, parakeet food, millet, grit, bird treets with fruit, bird treets with vegetables. Well, you may be starting to get the picture. I won't tell you about the long conversations Stephen and Berta have.

Stephen had basically dedicated a portion of his life to making Berta into a nice bird. You can imagine my amazement when, yesterday morning, Stephen stormed out of the bathroom looking like he does when he's just listened to George Bush's latest inane, repetitive, and halting speech patterns. "That's it! I've had it with that bird! She isn't fit to be my pet, anyone's pet." And I had heard a curse word or two. Stephen doesn't curse. Maybe a few times in our 22 years together. This was the man who taught the bird to say, "Beautiful beast!" This was serious stuff, and I was concerned for both of them. To use an excellent vernacular expression, Stephen was bummed out the entire day.

Next morning I said, "Well, dear, has your black mood lifted?" No answer. I'm now thinking (since I have recently been studying French), "C'est très tragique!" I decided to risk being helpful. "I think you should call Cheri at the Zoo, or talk to that woman who gave you the bird." I had to go out, but it turns out he took my advice. By the time I came home, he had spoken to a bird behavior specialist. She told him several things that may just save the day.

For one thing, the specialist opined, after closely questioning Stephen, her environment is apparently triggering nesting behavior, and these mama birds are ferocious in defending their nests or even the blueprints for their nests from perceived enemies. They can be mean and even lethal, to their mates and to their infants under the right circumstances. So take out all the curly paper at the bottom of the cage, and just wash up the droppings every day. Take any bottles or hiding places out, and encourage her to sit on the perch.

Berta also was attacking Stephen when he even tried to change the water or food in the cup. The bird specialist thinks that given her elevated nesting hormones, she was playing a very aggressive game of "I can get to the cup and defend it before you can get to it." So, the deal is, don't reward the undesirable behavior, don't even notice it. Walk away and come back and try again. But first, distract her to the top of the cage with millet. Then when she's busy with her treat, change the food.

Tonight, some semblance of peace again reigns over the Andris/Nichols household. I asked Stephen when we were having our dessert around the fireplace if he felt more hopeful now. And apparently he does, although he thinks it's going to take some time. And I feel pretty good about it, because I actually managed to stay unhooked and helpful, but not too controlling about it. There's GOT to be some reason why they call them "Love Birds." 

Posted: Thu - December 14, 2006 at 09:49 PM          

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