I imagine some parents go through this with babies. They argue over and translate what the baby says. Parrots keep this game up much longer. Babies get better at communicating. Birds, not so much.
Just to get your ears tuned in, here’s my favorite cockatoo video about the dead bed rats.
I know my hearing isn’t all that good anymore. Still, I don’t agree with Mike about what the birds are saying. Well, the parrots, anyway. Okay, it’s just Maynard.
Maynard spent his formative years with a rather detrimental person in a bad environment. For that reason, he is a bit whacky somedays. He also has a vocabulary that shouldn’t be let out in polite company.
The first instance is actually a pretty sweet one. I was hearing Maynard say “Oh, oooo!”
Mike: Can’t you hear that he’s saying Love You? It’s clear to me.
Me: It can’t be, I don’t hear any consonants.
Maynard: Love you!
Mike was right about that one. But the others are still up for debate.
Maynard: Come here, (something)
Mike: He’s saying Come here, Stupid.
Me: No, he wouldn’t say that! He’s saying Come here, Sister.
Mike: (skeptical look)
Maynard: You’re a mother f——.
Me: Maynard, stop that!
Mike: He’s saying mother f——, isn’t he?
Me: Maybe. Could be mother faker.
Maynard: Don’t f— with me!
Me: You tell ’em, baby.
Mike: You’re encouraging him.
Me: Am not. A little.
Mike: Why is he doing that?
Me: There’s a cat in the yard. There’s a hawk in the yard. We missed giving him a snack. He didn’t like the snack we gave him. He wants dinner. He wants out. He wants to go to sleep.
Mike: You can tell all of that from his scream?
Me: I might be extrapolating a bit.
Maynard: Goodbye, Maynard
Me: Where you going?
Mike: I think he’s saying good boy, Maynard.
Me: No, he only says it when he thinks we’re leaving. Or when he wants something. Or when he wants something different. Or when –
Mike: I get it.
Mike: Maynard, I got your toes! I got your tail! I wonder why he doesn’t like me.
Maynard: I’m a clever boy! Hee hee hee!
Mike: That’s a wicked laugh you have there.
Me: If we wake up murdered in our beds, we should leave a note saying the parrot did it.
And so it goes. Never a dull moment around here. Thanks for reading, I’ll be back on Sunday.