Letters to My Birdchildren

I love you the best. You were my first birdbaby. It was gratifying to spoon feed you baby formula and to watch you eat eagerly and grow rapidly. With you, I made all the mistakes a new birdmom could make, but you survived anyway and blossomed into a confident, assertive, and independent teenager. Despite your diminutive size, you believe you are a big macaw. I love you even during your spring hormonal surge and your attempts to make nests from the furniture.

Although you do not give away your love as freely as Monet, when you do deign to bestow birdie kisses and hugs, they are all the more welcome because they are what you truly feel. I love your constant chatter and your communication. When you say, "I love you: gimme a kisssss" and lean forward with pinning eyes to give and receive kisses, you truly understand what you are saying and doing.

I love your intelligence and your forthright manner. As my first birdchild, all my hopes and dreams came together into one beautiful young bird. Paco, you are the first birdchild, and I love you the best.

Your loving birdmom,
Maggie

Dear Monet, my painted conure:

I love you the best. You were longed for, sought after, and eagerly awaited for a long time. With you as the second birdchild, I felt more confident and relaxed because I had learned from Paco and because you had been well socialized by your breeder grandparents.

You are indisputably a miracle of God's handiwork. I love your enchanting colors and your bright, inquisitive eyes. More especially, I love your sweet, gentle nature and the birdie hugs you endow s freely. You bring sheer joy with your happy little "cheer-up" chirps and your cozy little quacks. I con't care if you ever speak because you illuminate my life in many other ways. You can be surprising at times. Although you look delicate, you have a big heart. Despite your smaller size, you can make Paco back down and give way.

I love your quiet charm and gentle nature. I love it when you snuggle under my ear, burrow into my hair, and sing your soft clucks. Monet, you are the middle birdchild, and I love you the best.

Your loving birdmom,
Maggie

Dear Jezebel, my Moluccan cockatoo:

I love you the best. You were the culmination of a lifelong wish for a "real" parrot - - a LARGE bird. You came to me through some Divine Plan to fulfill that wish.

It was both an obligation and a satisfaction to remove you from a less-than-adequate home where you were ignored and your abilities left undeveloped. It has been encouraging to see you eat fresh corn instead of seeds for the first time in your life and to watch you taste a grape and roll it around discovering these new sensations.

You are such an ethereal shade of pink. You are undeniably a lady despite your size and your awkwardness. Your proud display of that resplendent crest is a marvel to behold. And while your thunderous morning call might be vexing to some people, it is music to my ears. Although your "cockatoo dust" covers everything in sight, to me it is pixie dust.

I love it when you gallop toward me to be picked up and allow yourself to be cuddled on my chest, when you lay your head on my shoulder, and when you look up at me with those large, intelligent eyes while you lift your wings for scritches. Jezebel, you are the youngest birdchild, and I love you the best.

Your loving birdmom,
Maggie