We have a couple of pets at our house. You can see Lucky the duck all over the place around here. But today we are celebrating our other little bird’s birthday.
Porky came to live with us thirteen years ago today. It played out like this: Some kind people called our local SPCA to tell them there was a bird on her neighbor’s garage roof that had been hanging out up there screaming for at least three days. She was worried about him. They went to check out the situation and saw that he was a conure. Conures are pretty tough little birds, but they definitely should not be living outdoors around here in the fall and winter. There are no wild conures around here, so this little green sweetie must have gotten loose and lost or something like that.
They took him back to the SPCA and cared for him there while they tried to find his family. They normally care for only dogs and cats at this SPCA and they weren’t sure exactly what a bird needed. One of the workers there happened to be a student of my husband’s, and so she asked him about it. One thing led to another, and now Porky lives with us! We love him like crazy, and we are very glad to have him as part of our family.
That being said, Porky is a bit of a problem child. 🙂 When he first came to live with us, he liked everybody and so we let him fly around the house all he wanted. He was friendly. But then over time, he came to prefer my husband. Then one day, I made the foolish mistake of kissing my husband in front of the bird. Uh-oh! He decided to defend his relationship with my husband by fighting off the intruder. But hey! I live here!
Ideally, I would have increased my time with Porky to make sure that he bonded with both of us. But his behavior got worse and most of the time I was hanging around the house, I was also caring for one or more babies, so it seemed safest to let my husband handle the social concerns of Porky. And over the years, our children have grown up with Porky and loved him like nobody else. I love him too. But…Porky hates me. Every chance he gets, it’s bite, bite, bite. He gets hold of my neck and goes for the blood. It’s quite shocking, really. Around me, he’s four ounces of perky green fury. It’s become one of our family jokes.
Porky does most of his living now in my daughter’s bedroom. He gets to fly around and socialize with anyone who dares to enter. He sleeps in his cage at night. And when he needs to come downstairs and be with others (like me), he has a travel kennel. That’s his little Hannibal Lecter setup, just like in the movies.
A couple of years ago, I couldn’t decide how to decorate Porky’s birthday cake, so I just wrote “Bite me!” on it and threw a bunch of sprinkles all around. The cake was a huge hit, so we have continued the tradition. This year, my daughter did the honors. I baked the cake, then gave her full access to the cake-decorating area. She went to town, as you can see.
Porky’s beak is normally a pinkish-tan color. She made it red from the “blood.” I like how she made Porky say “Bite me!” as he contemplates the blood – my blood – dripping down his chin. Aww, how sweet.
Porky came downstairs for the party and we all had a blast. Happy birthday, Porky!