Flock off

I have four budgie birds. The first two were given to me by my son, who obtained them from friends who no longer wanted birds. Their names at the time were Gunther and Gretchen, but I renamed them Jazz and Tango.

Then one day I came home from work and a blue bird flew through the livingroom and landed on the shelf. I thought they must have figured out how to open the cage door, and was scared that the yellow bird might have already flown out the balcony door. I quickly closed the balcony door and ran to the cage, only to discover both birds safely in their cage. I then had one of those mind-shifting moments where I wondered if I had hallucinated the bird on the shelf….maybe I was experiencing one of those acid flashbacks I had heard about. I went back to the shelf, and there he still was. Phew. Apparently he was a newcomer who had flown in through the open balcony door while I was at work. I put him in the cage and all three birds sat there nuzzling each other’s heads like they were long-lost friends. I named him Blues.

Then, this past summer, I bought a fourth bird at a garage sale. He was a beautiful fancy aqua budgie, and I named him Calypso. Four birds, it turns out, make twice as much noise and mess as two birds. Who would have thought?

So yesterday I was flipping through usedottawa.com , looking for a better sofa, and there was a fresh ad from some woman who wanted a budgie. Since I’m in downsizing mode – even though I had no idea I was prepared to get rid of any of my birds – I emailed her and by the end of the day she had two budgies and a cage and I had $50 in my pocket. I kept Blues (the one that flew in) because he’s my favourite, and Tango because he’s yellow.

Goodbye Jazz. Goodbye Calypso. I miss you guys.