The [uber quick] Back Story: One day I was casually walking home from school, when I get a text from my asking me "Do you want him?" with an attached picture of this mangy, frail african grey parrot, something I've wanted for the longest time.
How'd we cross paths? He was a rescue; his previous owners put him in a cat carrier and brought him to the store my mom works at, hoping to donate him. The employee turned the old man down and instead of being a responsible citizen and finding another home for his bird, he shoved the cat carrier on a dog food shelf and walked out of the store.
That was February 2nd, 2012. That night, my mom hauled this little sad sack into the house and he's been by my side ever since.
Some questions I know I'm going to get: [I got you]
What kind of bird is he? An African Grey parrot.
How long will he live? They can live up to, on average, be 80 years old. So we're going to be stuck together for quite a while.
What's wrong with his feathers? He's a compulsive feather plucker, which is common among greys. The mix of his most likely stressful and inadequate previous home situation left him with serious anxiety and separation issues.
Why doesn't he have a real name? He does. It's Mr. Bird. Bird for short. He's also referred to as Baby, Buddy, Nugget, Turd [don't ask], Bad, etc. His name is basically any adjective that describes him on a given day. And he responds to every one.
Does he talk? No, and he probably won't. These birds learn habits young and he was denied a proper environment to learn to talk.
And now a little autobiography from Bird, himself.
"ok, ok, ok, so mommi told me i hav 2 right a little sumting about mself so her: vnjhjhjgbh .e:. dats allll"
Ask me any questions you have in the comments. Maybe this post was a little useless, but I talk about this little munchkin so much, I had to!=)