Living with Limpy

Prologue

When I was 10 years old my father bought me a pair of budgerigars. I named them Snowy, due to the white colour, and Sunny, due to the yellow colour. Many an hour was spent watching them as they hopped and briefly flew about in the rather large cage that dad constructed. They didn’t stay around long, one day I forgot to close the door and in a flash without saying goodbye they flew away. I looked up and called out their names in between short crying bouts. They never came back. Well that friendship didn’t last long. The day after, I went about playing with my train set. Within a week I forgot all about them.

Forty years later I found myself once again owning a budgerigar. I moved house, because I used to live practically next door to a hospital. Night and day all I heard was the slamming of car doors, the sounding of car horns, and ambulance sirens, and the occasional helicopter. There were always continuous background noises. My new house was in a quiet leafy no-through road. It was going from one extreme to another. Imagine hearing the sound of a plate shattering on a tiled floor from the next door neighbour’s kitchen. Imagine waking up and, whilst rubbing one’s eyes, you could hear the unmistakeable ticking sound of the kitchen clock. The deafening silence was unnerving.

At the beginning of 2000 I was visiting a friend when low and behold his son Nick, walked in with a budgie on his shoulder. What a lovely thing to see. Well that certainly brought back childhood memories. I turned my attention towards the son and talked about his birds. By the end of that visit I had arranged to buy one bird from him. The bird was to be delivered by the weekend.

I had no idea on how to train a bird but at the same time I didn’t want to make him perform any tricks. What I wanted was to hear a bird’s chirping to break up the silence, he could live his life, and I mine. What would be nice, what would be a bonus, was if he could eat from my hand and perhaps even sit on my shoulder?

When the bird was delivered I named him Bluey due to the fact that he was blue in colour. He lived in a cage in the kitchen. In time I opened the cage door and he spent time on the kitchen radio. Come night time and he flew back into his cage. As time passed and he got used to me, he briefly around breakfast time stayed on my finger or shoulder. Eventually while I had my breakfast, he did fly and ate some seeds off my hand. It was a treat for me to see him place one foot on the kitchen counter and another foot on my hand as he helped himself to the seeds. That was the only time we met during the day and this routine continued daily till one day just on four years later he passed away.

Six months passed before I bought another budgie this time from a pet store. Similar in colour as Bluey I named the new budgie Indi, short for Indian because of his colour scheme under his eyes. He reminded me of the American Indians, the way they wear war paint under their eyes in the old Hollywood movies. I was surprised to see Indi’s behaviour was the same as Bluey, flying onto the kitchen radio, spending most of the time there and eating from my hands at the kitchen table. Regrettably he flatly refused to stay on my finger or shoulder.

The day my mum’s funeral was taking place was also the day Indi passed away. It was the only time I wasn’t paying much attention, I was running around dressing, waiting for my cousins to show up to take to the church and I left the toilet seat open. Indi flew in and drowned in the toilet bowl. I only had him for 6 months.

On the way to mum’s funeral my cousin’s stated that her son Tony was a budgerigar breeder didn’t help, I just didn’t want to know about budgies at all.

Chapter 1

An invitation to my cousin a month later, to see his budgies changed my outlook again. Standing in a garage with close to a hundred budgies in all their colourful noisy glory brought back a smile. I just went over to each cage whistling and talking to them. I just laughed observing their antics. Yep, there was no doubt about it, I wanted another budgie. Turning round I asked my cousin to sell me one. He said that he’ll do so once some new ones are born. I agreed and went home shortly after.

One day, at the start of spring he rang me and said that he had a lovely blue budgie picked out and would call me at the appropriate time. More waiting, I mumbled to myself. Finally, the day came when I picked up the phone and heard him say that my budgie was now ready to be picked up and I should come over on the Thursday, Friday or the Saturday. I said that I would be there on Sunday. He disagreed and said that it had to be one of those three days because that would be the day when the window was open. I nominated Friday night. When I put the phone down I wondered what he is talking about, window, what window?

On 8th September 2006 I arrived at my cousin’s place leaning to one side thanks to the heavy weight of the cage I was given when I picked up Bluey. Whoever built that cage wanted it to last forever. I’m sure it could survive a nuclear blast.

Upon entering the lounge room I saw my cousin holding a blue budgie and was gently scratching the area behind his head. I was surprised to see the bird passively letting such action take place. Relieved of the cage, I sat down next to him and asked Tony to explain what he was doing. He told me that budgies love to have the back of the head scratched. I understood and made a mental note to one day carry out such an act.

It was then that I remembered the question I wanted to ask. By the way Tony, on the phone you said something about a window. What are you talking about, window, what window?

Budgies in general do not like to be held. When the budgie is placed in one’s hands he’ll loudly screech. He fears that the enclosing hand is a predator’s mouth. Another reason for screeching is because to the budgie, human skin feels quite alien.

Tony turned and looking at me said Irrespective whether a person wants a bird to train or simply as a house pet, the best time to get him is when the budgie has become independent from his parents but before he becomes completely independent from anyone and everyone. That period of time, that open window is a crucial three to five day period. Once that time frame is over he can still be trained but it gets slightly harder as the days go by. A breeder, a knowledgeable breeder, should keep an eye on the bird’s behaviour and would know when the time is right for parental separation and owner introduction.

I wasn’t going to argue with him. He was given a budgerigar as a birthday present on his twelfth birthday. He bought another budgie shortly after and once the hen dropped a couple of eggs Tony were so fascinated that he became a breeder. That was 35 years ago, so he certainly knew what he was talking about.

Tony slowly passed the budgie over. I gently took hold of him and under his direction, started to scratch the back of his head. There’s no doubt about it he was enjoying the scratching sensation. Well mate, it seems that we’re going to get along just fine I softly said. A few minutes later Tony commented about the cage weight as he brought it over and I put the budgie in it. The cage was placed in the back seat of the car and securely tied down. If any policeman saw me drive that night he would come to the conclusion that I was a careful driver accelerating and braking as gently as it was humanly possible. It was one very comfortable smooth ride that bird experienced.

The one advantage that the cage offered was that three sides of it were closed so it was easy to cover much of the front section with an old towel. The cage was placed on the kitchen table which was moved against the wall. A towel was placed further blocking the kitchen light and I moved into the study. Only the night light bathed the kitchen so I was quite sure that with hardly a sound in the house the bird would soon settle down and go to sleep.

The idea of sleeping in on Saturday was easily dismissed. I got out of bed and following the usual shower, shave and tooth brushing tip toed towards the kitchen saying G’day to my new mate. Halfway down the hall I came to a sudden stop. Just round the corner I could hear the bird merrily chirping. I don’t believe it I muttered, surely he couldn’t have settled in already? I walked into the kitchen and slowly so as not to startle him removed and folded the towel. I backed away and very briefly whistled. I smiled as I saw him up on a perch close to the cage door rather than at the back end of the cage. I prepared breakfast, switched on the radio and sat down to breakfast and, of course, just ready to watch him. During breakfast I placed seeds and water containers on the bottom of the cage whilst repeatedly whistling at him. I broadly smiled when he jumped down and helped himself to the water but was disappointed when he didn’t touch any of the seeds.

During the morning as I went about doing some chores I kept peeking in but at no time were the seeds disturbed. Something’s wrong, I said, so I quickly reached for the phone and called Tony. As soon as I finished telling him why I rang he asked me what type of seeds I was offering. I don’t know the name; I just gave him the same seeds which I gave to Bluey and Indi. When he asked me where I got them from I replied from the supermarket, where else Tony laughed and said that I should go to a pet shop and buy canary plain seeds. I was quite surprised to hear him say that but he assured me to do just that. Once again I said OK you’re know best, see you later and rushed back into the bedroom, changed clothes and drove down to the large ‘Fish and Feathers’ pet store just down the road from my place.

There was an instant response; within a moment of replacing the seeds he jumped onto my finger and than on the container. That surprised me. A second later he was head down and bum up rapidly feasting. Well that certainly told me what he likes. I threw away what was left of the supermarket seed and filling the empty container with the new seed.

Lunch was once again eaten while observing the bird. I was again surprised by his chirping. He hasn’t even been here a day yet, and has already settled in, merrily chirping away. Yes, it is time to open the cage door and let him out. Seeing a bird in flight is a wonderous thing. I was never happy seeing a bird couped up in a cage, it’s like placing him in a prison. I got up, closed the curtains and the kitchen window blind. I didn’t want him to fly towards the window and then crash into it. As I got closer to him to open the cage door I suddenly noticed his left leg. I hadn’t noticed that before, his toe arrangement was slightly deformed.

The most common arrangement of digits in birds are with three toes facing forward and one facing back. The budgie on the other hand has two toes facing forward and two facing back. His left leg has two toes facing forward, another facing back but the third digit is facing forward and is floppy as if it was connected only by the skin. When I slowly moved a finger towards the cage door he backed away and could then clearly see that the third digit wasn’t moving with the rest, it was trailing behind. I was quite upset, wondering if he in pain, what should I do? I could ring up Tony but than again what could he do? Eventually I did ring him; he was surprised about it, because he had not noticed anything. There’s no much I can do he said but did promise to pop over as soon as he had the time. Placing the phone back on the hook I walked back to the cage and spent time just observing the bird.

It was at this time that I realised I still hadn’t named the budgie and decided I did not want to keep calling him ‘bird’. His grip was unaffected he was quite able to grip the cage surrounds or any of the two perches with ease. What was noticeable when he walked along the water container was a slight limp on the left leg. Well there was the answer right in front of me; his limp identified him; Limpy. Yes, quite an appropriate name. And so from that moment onwards he was known as Limpy.

Of course calling him by name didn’t mean he would come over, in time he came over when he wanted to, not when I said so.

There are times when budgerigars balance on one leg when stretching and Limpy was no exception. When he did stretch he did it very cautiously. It is OK when he stretches his left leg because he’s supporting himself on his good leg but at times he used to lose balance and fall over when he tried to hold himself up on the left leg.

Looking around once more, confirming that the curtains and kitchen blind were still closed, I turned around, faced the cage and said OK Limpy, time to open up the cage door. You’re more than welcomed to come out whenever you feel like it

G’day, my name is Limpy – (Notice my defining feature!)

I opened the cage door and positioned myself out of his field of vision so as not to alarm him. Sitting down in the lounge room I picked up a book and once in a while looked up at the cage. I was very surprised because it didn’t take long for him to act. Much to my surprise, I saw a head pop out; look both ways as if to cross the road and a moment later Limpy took flight heading