Some of you know we’ve recently been adopted by a cockatiel. We weren’t looking for an animal companion, but the Higher Power apparently thought differently.
We live in the boonies. I mean we are way out in the desert. The cockatiel slammed his body into our picture window, fell to the ground and screamed bloody murder.
I opened the door and asked if he needed to come in. A squawk of acknowledgment preceded him flying in. He stepped up onto my hand, got on my shoulder, snuggled and fell asleep.
Hubby and I went to town to get him food, toys and a cage. Now he won’t come out of the cage. The door stays open during the daytime, and he’s not cage bound…he truly wants to come out and be with us. He will travel all the way around the cage opening, and the opening is not small. He has accidentally fallen out of the cage and excitedly announced his success. But he still can’t figure out how he did it.
He’s not the first bird we’ve had, nor is he the first cockatiel, but he is the first who has me scratching my head. And that’s kind of embarrassing since I’m an animal communicator. I had asked him to show me some of what he experienced before he came here. His only reply was a very loud verbal admonishment, and he moved to the back of the cage, shutting me out. Since he’s been here, he’s only shared once, and that was to let me know he was my Hubby’s bird.
Okay, we’re doing this the hard way.
The poor guy’s middle tail feathers are missing, he doesn’t want us to touch him, he won’t eat anything but seed and drink water. Anything else we put in the cage, he screams that we’re trying to kill him and gives us the nastiest glare he can.
He has times where, for whatever reason, he seems to overload (hyper stimulated) and wants to be put into quiet time.
He doesn’t bath in any form. We’ve tried misting, a gentle “rain” and even put a bowl of water in the bottom of his cage. Apparently water is evil. We have offered him veggies and fruit…all of which he deemed to be us attempting to murder him.
He doesn’t seem to know how to be a cockatiel, or is it he doesn’t know he’s a bird?
And he has panic attacks. When they are extreme, I develop a panic attack.
After a few frustrating weeks, Perry (the bird) has finally begun playing with his murderous toys instead of giving the toys the stink eye as though they were intruders trying to kill him.
After one bad panic attack he had, I ruminated on what could be done. He came to us for a reason. What can we do for him?
I asked my team. They asked me how he was when he first got here. “Exhausted, dehydrated and starving.”
“Did he come as a cockatiel?”
I replied, “No. He doesn’t seem to know what he is.”
“And how have you been treating him?”
“As a cockatiel.”
“But you said he didn’t come to you as a cockatiel.”
I nodded. “Right. He didn’t seem to know what he was or who he was.”
Ah. We’ve been trying to get him to be a cockatiel. Or rather, what our perceptions of cockatiels based on our past experiences with cockatiels. Hmm.
We needed to quit trying to make him what we thought he should be.
“Make him the best Perry he can be,” my team recommended. I get it. We need to help support him to be the best Perry he can be.
This past week we’ve implemented a new plan.
Perry is now on wheels. Well, his cage is. He has a regular sleeping area – which doubles as his quiet space when he needs down time. Otherwise, if he doesn’t come out of his cage, we can wheel him about so he can come to know the house. Perry’s world will expand from the safety of his cage.
We continue to offer him new foods and encourage him to come out of the cage opening. In the meantime, we’ve ordered a cage where the doors are even larger and the top opens up. We’re hoping he will understand that cage.
We will all learn together who Perry is. We all have quirks, and Perry’s no different there. He’s adorable, evil glares and all. And he does have a sense of humor, which he’s still working on.
Be The Best You That You Can Be
I grew up experiencing others trying to make me fit in their mold of what they thought it should mean for me to be Jan. I’m human and I really didn’t like being told by someone else what being a human, and a human named Jan, should mean. Or treated as though I don’t know who or what I am. That didn’t work so well for any of us involved.
Only I know – mostly – what it means to be Jan the human. Of course, I am still a work in progress. And I continue to work to be the best I can be – the best Jan I can be. And I encourage you to be the best you, that you can be.
By Jan Toomer
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