Marilyn Noah holds Kiwi, the green-cheeked conure responsible for introducing her to parrots.

SHE WAS SITTING quietly on her perch in a decorative cage in a fashionable living room, in a home where a christening party was taking place. Kiwi the green-cheeked conure, ten months old, lonely and neglected. No toys in the pretty cage, a water bottle because "she kept trying to take a bath" when she had a water cup. When I asked her owner, Anna, how often she took her parrot out of the cage, Anna responded, "Not very often."

I was a wild bird lover, vice president of my local Audubon Society chapter, donating money regularly to wild bird habitat conservation and rescue organizations. I did not approve of keeping pet birds. The Audubon Society felt that keeping pet birds promoted their capture from the wild. However, a few years earlier I had also become a member of Mickaboo Cockatiel Rescue, donating money and reading on their Web site the stories of pet birds they had rescued from horrendous or neglectful or tragic situations.

So, I knew a neglectful situation when I saw one.

"Go ahead and take him out," Anna offered. In addition to being the parrot's owner, Anna was my hostess and mother of the newly christened baby for whom the party was happening.

I opened the cage door and tentatively offered the little parrot my hand; I had zero experience handling birds. "Step up," I said hopefully. She looked at me fearfully.

"Oh, just grab him," Anna said. She reached in and grabbed Kiwi. Handed her to me.

Soft little feet wrapped around my finger. Kiwi lowered her head and looked up at me. She made a little chuffing sound. Then she walked up my sleeve and snuggled up against my neck. In a few minutes I felt her little beak worrying my earring. Felt her breath against my cheek.

I was hooked.

Kiwi spent the entire party on my shoulder, arm or hands. I transferred her to my husband, Paul, several times. She did her neck snuggling, ear nibbling behavior for him, too. She avidly explored our heads, our clothing. When it was time to go home I put her back in her cage, where she clung to the bars and peeped piteously. We could hear her even after the door closed behind us.

My heart ached for her.

Halfway home, Paul commented, "It was big fun playing with Mr. Conure."

"I wish he was coming home with us," I responded. To my amazement.

"A bird? Nah."

We had an envious life, Paul and I. A two-career couple, no children, financially comfortable, few restrictions. We traveled often and impulsively, spent many evenings out, pursued our sports of skiing, cycling, hiking and golf. A pet would tie us down.

But there was that neck snuggling. Those soft little feet. That sad peeping when we left. I called Anna a few days later.

"If ever you should decide that you’re too busy with the baby for Kiwi anymore, Paul and I would be happy to take her," I advised.

She called back in three weeks. Offer accepted.

Paul and I prepared. Went to a Mickaboo bird care class, purchased pellets and toys, a California cage (stainless steel, powder coated), a bird play gym, a carrier. Made an appointment with an avian vet – recommended by Mickaboo – for a "well bird" exam for her first day with us. By her first night in her new home with us, we had invested thousands of dollars in her health, happiness and comfort.

That was three years ago. Within weeks we could not imagine life without her. She has blossomed from a fearful, quiet bird to a talkative, friendly, highly interactive parrot. Our lifestyle has changed enormously. We have abandoned evenings out for evenings in with our sweetie. Our home looks like a 65-gram toddler has taken over. There are parrot trees, gyms, and toys scattered everywhere at all times.

The three of us could not be happier.

ParrotChronicles.com

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