I was not enjoying having Charles Darwin as a roommate. No, it wasn’t controversy over the evolution of species, it was his incessant squawking. I would yell frequently, “Shut up, Charles Darwin!” Probably leading my neighbors to think I didn’t believe in evolution. Charles Darwin was my little lime parakeet, or budgie for some of you. In truth, I had not set out to become a bird lady. I have never had a bird before, though small animals are my favorite kind of pets. Hamster (Lucky), mouse (Keifer Sutherland), snapping turtle (Yurtle), even a katydid (Leaf Erikson), I’ve done ‘em all. So with all of this small animal prep, how was it that I ended up rooming with Charles Darwin?
I always dreamed a bird to sit on my shoulder while I wrote, washed the dishes, or watched tv. All very Snow White in the forest. It was really a horrible breakup that made me get Charles Darwin. I was sad and my apartment was achingly silent, and in my experience, small pets made me happy. I let the pet store employee pick out the one she thought was the sweetest of the bunch, a little lime colored budgie. I named him Charles Darwin because evolution has always captivated me. I mean, birds are the closest living relative of dinosaurs. They can FLY and they are related to T-REXES, what more do you people want?! I took him to the bathroom once a day to try to train him. I was instructed via YouTube to continually bring him back to the perch I held in my hand by pressing it to his chest. I can see now that Charles Darwin probably felt a little egged on. He relentlessly dive bombed me. I think he got on my little stick perch a few times, but it was only enough hope for him to dash it once again. Wearing fleeces winter gloves with leather padding on the fingers, I would reach in the cage to feed Charles Darwin. He would jump onto my glove to bite the leather, and make sweet love to my hand. Damnit, Charles Darwin, all I wanted to do was love you, but not like that. About four years later, I walked over to feed him and he was dead. That’s it. No sickly fanfare, no death throes. He came in as he lived, hard and fast.
I would never get another bird.
Two weeks later… I sit in my, again very quiet, apartment. I sort of missed yelling at Charles Darwin. I looked over at the gorgeous, decorative sea foam colored cage I scoured the internet for. I tried to temper my bird desires with trips to the Montrose Bird Sanctuary behind Montrose Beach on the Chicago lakefront. There’s this perfect little forest there in the middle of everything and birders abound. I couldn’t fool myself that binoculars could replace the void in my home, so I immediately drove to my favorite pet-store, Thee Fish Bowl. I wanted finches. They are quiet and twittering, and not really meant to train, thus never revealing my failings as a trainer. I walked in and over to the birds. I saw these two finches all curled up together and picked them on the spot. They are orange-cheeked waxbill finches, originating from West Africa. Birds of the vast African grasslands, they are a beautiful dun color with a sleek maroon tail, and, of course, bright orange cheeks with a bright orange waxy textured bill, tiny as cotton balls when they sleep next to each other. Their calls just soft beeps and peeps. So that’s what I named them: Beep and Peep. I know these names are very similar and I recommend you try to remember them like I do. Peep the Meek and Beep the Brave. So Beep was the more dominant of the two. There would be a little biting towards Peep or maybe just stealing a bit of coconut fiber. Overall, they got along, as long as Peep stood out of Beep’s way.
They did have an exceedingly bad habit of kicking seed out of their cage. Some little mice friends showed up, but I wasn’t interested in anymore small pets. I told my rental company and they came in to lay down sticky traps. Now I should have just said no to this in the first place, but I was busy with life, so much so that I missed my maintenance man had not fully closed on trap by the cage. I often left Beep and Peep’s cage open for them to fly about. They really enjoyed my orchid window, hanging onto the stems with their teeny tiny feet. Oh, it is adorable! On this night, Beep the Brave, flew out , circled once, and somehow landed on that sticky trap. It took me a moment to compute what had happened. I acted swiftly as Beep’s cries were becoming more urgent and more and more feathers were being consumed by the glue. As he emitted sounds I had never heard before I managed to free him from the trap, but at a great cost to his right foot and about half of his feathers, including his whole tail. I took him to an emergency vet who quoted me an exorbitant amount to keep it there overnight in a warm oxygen box. What could possibly be done for this minuscule bird? I was surprised he hadn’t died of shock right there. I didn’t have the budget for my budgie, so we went home and I made him as warm and safe as possible. I pulled the rolling radiator in front of the cage, covered the bottom of the cage in soft towels, covered them with a blanket and prayed.
Right away, Peep the Meek started to change. The now less dominate finch became the lead. Peep preened Beep, Peep watched as Beep began to climb again, Peep actually helped Beep drop his toes. They turned black and fell off within a two weeks. That was it. He still had his clinging claw and over the weeks he was back on the perch, but otherwise fine. He just adapted.
A few months after the accident, Peep did the most amazing thing. Laid eggs! You cannot tell the sex of a finch without a blood test, so babies were an initial concern. Being that I wanted baby finches because I have no small-pet self control. Since the initial laying of these eggs none have hatched no matter how many nests and nesting materials I try. I have gone so full-on bird lady that I am in a “Finches Only!” Facebook group. Here, from a group of 15,000 other bird freaks, I can get 300 answers to any question within 7 minutes. Fertilization never seems to occur, all agree. I always speculate wistfully that I have a pair of sapphic finches doomed to an empty nest.
A year later, Beep, Peep, and I are doing okay today. We’ve spent a lot of time together this last year. I get to see what they are like all day. I adore their little warm water baths, the quick flickering of their wings to dry off. I play bird sounds when I work and they coo and cuddle like they are with friends.
Charles Darwin, the man, said “It is not the strongest of the species, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is most adaptable to change.” I am neither the strongest or the most intelligent of my species, but I do know this, as seasons in my own life pass, I know I am adaptable and will survive, even if I lose a toe…or a boyfriend. So next time you see a little sparrow, remember: that baby dinosaur can teach you a thing or two.
Story Gift 