life is more than a dress rehearsal

She was so cute and alone in the big parakeet cage at PetsMart.  Bright white, little blue spots under her wings.  A sad, bedraggled, please-love-me aspect.  My younger sister was with me and campaigned vigorously for the tiny thing’s rescue.  Luckily for them both, I had been hoping to bring home a friend for Moxie, my pied parakeet.  And the lovely black deluxe cage was on sale, too.  Damn.

Bijou: Jewel

Bijou was a skittish little thing.  She and Moxie timidly conversed from across my bedroom during her quarantine.  After about a week, I decided to introduce them.

Moxie was beside himself!  (Yes, I discovered that my earlier suspicions were born out: Moxie was male.)  It was love at first sight, quite literally.  Cooing and clucking and nuzzling and all made of PDA that made my sister exclaim with surprise and laughter.  I chuckled and realized I had graduated from being a parakeet owner to being a parakeet breeder.  Damn.

They spent about 72 hours courting before I let them move in together for good.  They settled into a darling routine of preening, playing, pecking, peeking, and—I’ve run out of p words to describe this parakeet love.  They are cute enough together that they could probably invent another twelve words to describe the nuance of their interactions.

So far, my one complaint: their midnight, 2 a.m., and 4 a.m. games of tag.  Perhaps Moxie is being a bit forward after lights out; perhaps birds simply get bored after two hours of sleep and have to spend some energy.  In any case, I am back to wearing earplugs.  Damn.

Today I looked up how to build nesting boxes.  “Damn.”