Does anyone remember the great bird attack of Spring 2021?
It wasn’t Alfred Hitchcock style by any means. Actually, it wasn’t quite an attack, maybe more of a nursery extravaganza. If you recall, we had Evelyn the duck under the bush, a sparrow’s nest nestled in the front door wreath, and Ethel the pigeon in the gutter. Babies everywhere!
I’m not sure what the Universe is trying to tell me, but now we have Sally.
There I was, minding my own business, when I heard an awkward screech coming from the front yard. Of course, I had to find this mystery noise. It wasn’t the natural bird chirps or hawk squawks of the neighborhood.
I looked up into the love/hate relationship I have with the front tree that sprouts its youth all over and up through the mulch, and found the culprit–a bright green parakeet having the time of her life, eating berries and pooping on my newly planted flowers in the landscaping under the unruly tree—which I love/ hate.
It was two days until the world came crashing down into a fiery apocalypse, otherwise known as 4th of July in the Midwest. This bird wouldn’t have survived the Armageddon had I not saved her, found her home, and returned her safely. Except, no one wanted her.
Sally let me look at her little ID bracelet and we reported her prison record number to the Feds, or whomever watches over lost little birds. No one from the online neighborhood watch group claimed the bright green bird. Nothing. No takers. So, two hundred plus dollars later for a cage, food, and toys, we have a monk parakeet.
This couldn’t be what life had to offer. There had to be another reason why Sally now resides in my dining room. What if the Universe really was trying to tell me something super important, and the only way to get through to my bird brain was to send an actual bird brain? I’m not God, what do I know? I checked the spirit guide animal totems for answers.
For the most part, it appears the spirit animal totem gurus agree that parakeets come into our lives to teach us the secrets and powers of inner strength, as well as quiet observation. Now, I’m not saying these knowledgeable gurus don’t know what they’re talking about, but I will say that little Sally is by no means a quiet observationalist.
And honestly, Sally hasn’t read any of the guru’s comments online because she does nothing of the sort. Instead, she screams, screeches, and squawks…And not quietly. My favorite is when she starts her engine slow and quiet, then slowly builds the blower to squeal in repetitive high-pitched decibels, over and over and over and over until my head pounds and my ears are near bleeding. Even the dogs hide in the farthest corner upstairs with their little paws covering their sensitive ears. (Okay, that might have been a slight exaggeration.)
I’m currently searching for a happy/ loving home for Sally. With any luck the bird-loving person can take out their hearing aids. In the meantime, I try to shut her up by offering her cherries, Cheerios, and strawberries, all while examining my own cage, or as the gurus say, the secrets of my inner strength hiding behind metal bars.
It’s said that we develop our own cages, some say prisons, through our negative, self-absorbing thoughts; so, wouldn’t it make sense to focus on what holds me back? I mean, things don’t happen by coincidence. Sally is here for a reason. What repetitive behavior keeps the invisible cage around my mind, that limits the out of the box mentality? If Sally can open the iron cage doors, why can’t I? Maybe that’s the kind of message the Universe is trying to smack me in the forehead with—the ability to fly—or get high. I’m not sure. Either way, something amazing must come of this!