Hello

Chris wanted to say a quick 'hello' and welcome everyone to his new blog.  Enjoy the video!

Cool Shades

A friend of mine gave me a pair of fun sunglasses the other day and, of course, Chris had to check them out.

A little sunglass envy

Trying them on for size

Let's see how they taste...

Hmmm...I think these are cool enough for a cockatoo

Okay, they're mine now

No, Mom can not have them back!  Turning my back on you.  Go away!

Rubber Chickens

Chris, Holly, the cats (Monty & Dusty) and I were with my mom for the holidays. Chris gets Christmas presents just like all kids, and since Christmas is his birthday (or hatch day) he also gets birthday gifts. One of his all time favorite toys is a rubber chicken doll I got him over a year ago. She, the rubber chicken, is really a squeaky dog toy called Henrietta Chicken, and she wears a rubber bathing suit. From the moment I gave it to him he has been obsessed with it. He dragged it under his cage and proceeded to guard it for long stretches of time. If I bent down to look at him under there he would hiss at me (yes, cockatoos can hiss just like cats). One time I made the mistake of trying to take a photo of him with Henrietta under his cage and he charged at me. Apparently, he does not like the paparazzi.

Under the cage with the original Henrietta in NYC

Angry about the photos and in attack mode

My mother (Barbara) found an entire family of rubber chicken dolls in a pet catalog and we ordered him all different ones: Mrs. Claus chicken, surfer dude chicken, Playboy Bunny chicken (for real!), grandma chicken, etc. Now he has a whole collection, some in my apartment and some at my mother’s house.

A sampling of rubber chicken dolls in Katonah: Surfer dude & Mrs. Claus

His treatment of the subsequent rubber chickens is the same as with the original: they live under his cages, I am not allowed to touch them, but he occasionally drags them out for a viewing and holds them up so I can look at them.

A rare Playboy Bunny Chicken viewing in NYC

I assume he considers them his family or part of his flock and he thinks they are ‘real.’ When he boards he takes one with him. Holly has some as well, but Holly is not obsessed with them. Chris likes to play with Holly’s, too. And, what is interesting is that there is a “pecking order” amongst the rubber chickens: the cockatoo is obsessed with the girls, doesn’t care for the boys, and ignores the grandma. He also does not like the boy chickens near his girls and will toss them aside……..I guess the boys are competition and the grandma isn’t hot enough for him. But, as much as Chris loves the young girl chickens he has a nasty habit of decapitating them. First he chops off their ears, then I discover their heads hanging by a rubber thread and eventually, the carnage of a headless rubber chicken in a little rubber bathing suit. Troubling to say the least.

So, for this past Christmas, Chris and Holly each got a new Playboy Bunny rubber chicken doll from Barbara. She joined surfer dude chicken and Mrs. Claus chicken under his cage at Barbara’s house. Until……Chris grabbed her and abducted her and squeezed himself in between the cage floor grating and the cage tray beneath it and dragged the Playboy Bunny chicken with him.

Caught in the act: the cockatoo hovering over the abducted rubber chicken

Lifeless rubber chicken body lying in the cage tray

He proceeded to scrape her face against the edge of the cage tray until she had no face, effectively terminating another rubber chicken.

Chris' rubber chicken without a face on the left, Holly's in pristine condition on the right

I’m not sure if this is more Henry the VIII –let’s make room for a new wife behavior- or more Jack the Ripper serial killer behavior, but either way he clearly has some misogynistic tendencies. Now, if Chris were my human son, he’d be on his way to scared straight camp in the desert followed by months of psychotherapy, but since he’s my feather child all I can do is document it and thank God I’m not made of rubber.

On the flip, gentler side Chris is in love with my mother—Barbara---and wants to cuddle with her all the time. He calls her name even when she is not around and asks me "where's Barbara?" or tells me to "call Barbara." Theirs is an interspecies love story if ever there was one (at least from the cockatoo’s point of view) and I'm sure that she too is grateful that she is not made of rubber.

Chris snuggling in Barbara's arms

Heating Up

While I was on the phone ordering Migraine Ice pads (cooling relief pads for migraine sufferers--you'd need them, too, if this bird lived with you), the cockatoo, Chris, was dismantling my heating unit, which he does on a regular basis. He picked up the grate out of it's casing and then he opened the hatch where the knobs are and pulled them off. I found one quickly but spent about 10 minutes crawling around with a flashlight (while he jumped on and off my back trying to grab the flashlight) searching for the other one. Finally, I decided to remove the front of the unit and, sure enough, the knob was in there. I also found two missing bird toys and a piece of pretzel in there that the other bird, Holly, must have dropped (he's a junk food junkie). While all of this was going on Holly was eating a gourmet cookie I had gotten in a goody bag the night before.

Luckily, I have a techno savvy cat, Monty, who helped me with this post while I was reassembling the heater.

Introduction

One day Chris, my Umbrella Cockatoo, stood up very tall and flapped his wings and said "I am Cockatoo!" He knows his name is Chris, and I can assure you I do not run around my apartment yelling "I am Cockatoo!" so this wasn't simply him parroting my words. He had figured out that he was a cockatoo and whatever that meant to him, he was very proud of it. I was very proud of him that day and a bit in awe of him. I also knew I had a huge problem on my hands. This was no mere pet living in my home, this was a force to be reckoned with for the rest of my life. Sort of like a perpetual toddler that flys, for a 100 year life span. (He's now 9 so 91 more years to go.)

I'm always asked about Chris and Holly (my Pionus parrot), what they eat, can they speak, what they say, etc. When I tell the stories of the things they, and in particular, Chris, do people are often dumbfounded. I'm sure half of the time people think I'm making up these stories. I'm not, but unless you live in the shadow of a cockatoo, you just don't understand what it means to be a cockatoo or to be the guardian of one. And, since a picture is worth a thousand words I'll be posting lots of photos of Chris. I'm also going to try to shoot some videos, because seeing it is one thing, but you often have to hear it to believe it. I used to think I was hallucinating when Chris started talking. Even my own mother (Barbara) didn't believe what I was saying he was saying until she heard it for herself. I mean, whose pet looks at them and says "I did a poo-poo!" after doing one?? Or looks around the room and asks "Where are the kitty cats?" (I have two) or commands them to "Call Barbara!"? This is not mimicking, it is a sentient being with advanced intelligence. In addition to not walking around my apartment announcing that I am a cockatoo I also do not run around saying "I did a poo-poo" so there is no way Chris is simply repeating my words. Like any small child, he has built a vocabulary and communicates with the words he knows. And like most small children he gets what he wants most of the time and drives me nuts when he doesn't. Sometimes he throws tantrums. He alternately fights with and grooms his 'brother' Holly, because they are 'frenemies'. He plays with toys, names his stuffed animals, makes a mess, talks on the phone, laughs, flys around my apartment, plays on his 'jungle gym' and play area, eats too many Swedish fish, and sits on my lap. He makes animal noises--barks like a dog, quacks like a duck, and clucks like a chicken, his favorite. He also does a Barbara imitation that isn't very flattering (my favorite). He likes to dance, listen to music and his favorite song is "Happy Birthday to You." He loves Trick or Treaters on Halloween and sits by the door waiting for them. He loves Christmas and gets double the presents because it's also his birthday. His favorite colors seem to be white, blue and yellow. Some of his favorite healthy foods are green grapes, sugar snap peas, edamane, cherries, and safflower seeds. His favorite junk food (for special treats) is: pizza, Eggos mini waffles, Indian samosas (vegetarian), spring rolls (also vegetarian) and the aforementioned Swedish fish. He sleeps next to a life sized stuffed animal parrot and holds it's wing with his foot, although he hates bed time and goes to great lengths to avoid it. Some of his favorite words and phrases are: hello, cockatoo, poo-poo, Barbara, Rozy and I love you. His two favorite questions are: Where's Barbara? and Why did you do that? My favorite question is what is this cockatoo capable of? If he does indeed live for 100 years, what will he be capable of learning and of saying as he gets older? I think documenting his progress is important, not just for him or for me, but for his species.

The Cockatoo Chronicles is my way of sharing what it means to be Cockatoo with the world.