Dancer and Happy -- Home to Stay
It was a few years before I fell into "pet ownership" again. Greg had the day off and what a busy guy he was! He called me at work to inform me he had bought a cockatiel. Uh-oh! Oh no, he assured me -- he had everything required to bring the bird home. She was in fact, safely ensconced in her new home -- a big cage with plenty of room, water/food bowls, climbing poles, cuttle bones, millet spray, gravel paper. In short, everything the person in the department store told him he'd need for a bird. Only thing he hadn't decided on was her name. He suggested that after work we should return to the store and I could buy a budgie - he knew I had a fondness for budgies. Remembering the fate of our childhood bird Skipper, I was rather hesitant but agreed to go and look at the budgies.
Looking into cages of fluttering, chirping budgies I couldn't quite muster the enthusiasm the occasion required. Then I spotted, at the very back of the cage - sitting quietly and looking forlorn, a small green and yellow bird. I immediately made my decision and decided I would call the budgie Happy, because it looked so sad. The salesman announced that this was a fine male budgie, even giving me a short lesson on how to tell the difference. He was very accommodating in telling me everything I would need to buy for the bird and came round the pet deparment with me, handing me the necessities. Finally, he packed the scared little bird into a well-ventilated, secured box and off we went to the car. I was terrified, with Happy fluttering around in the box, trying to esape and so afraid the secured box wouldn't hold out until we got home. It held and we made it home and scrambled to get everything set up beside the cockatiel's cage. It was at that point, watching the cockatiel shuffling back and forth excitedly on her perch that Greg decided she was a Dancer. We fed and watered Happy and Dancer and let them grow accustomed to each other. We spoke softly and quietly to them and I even knew enough to cover the cages when we went to bed so they could sleep. Greg had a music box that played his favourite song "Greensleeves"; the only one I had played "Frosty the Snowman". Greg wound his up for Dancer, I wound mine up for Happy and we went to bed, thrilled with our new family.
Looking into cages of fluttering, chirping budgies I couldn't quite muster the enthusiasm the occasion required. Then I spotted, at the very back of the cage - sitting quietly and looking forlorn, a small green and yellow bird. I immediately made my decision and decided I would call the budgie Happy, because it looked so sad. The salesman announced that this was a fine male budgie, even giving me a short lesson on how to tell the difference. He was very accommodating in telling me everything I would need to buy for the bird and came round the pet deparment with me, handing me the necessities. Finally, he packed the scared little bird into a well-ventilated, secured box and off we went to the car. I was terrified, with Happy fluttering around in the box, trying to esape and so afraid the secured box wouldn't hold out until we got home. It held and we made it home and scrambled to get everything set up beside the cockatiel's cage. It was at that point, watching the cockatiel shuffling back and forth excitedly on her perch that Greg decided she was a Dancer. We fed and watered Happy and Dancer and let them grow accustomed to each other. We spoke softly and quietly to them and I even knew enough to cover the cages when we went to bed so they could sleep. Greg had a music box that played his favourite song "Greensleeves"; the only one I had played "Frosty the Snowman". Greg wound his up for Dancer, I wound mine up for Happy and we went to bed, thrilled with our new family.