George: The Loudest Bird In New York City

"My new neighbors must be keeping ducks," I thought as I heard the loud quacking sounds reverberate through the hallways. They were the most raucous sounds I'd ever heard. It turned out that the "ducks" were one cherry-headed conure named George, and my neighbors were an unmarried couple who had bought him as a baby two years before because he reminded the woman of Brazil, the country where she was born.

George was one sorry-looking bird. His chest and belly were completely bare as were most of his wings. His cage was large but inside were only 3 plastic parakeet half-perches and food and water dishes. His daily routine consisted of feather picking, climbing the walls of his cage, and screaming. George was also a biter, having had little or no interaction with humans since he was purchased. The woman, who soon became my friend, asked me to help stop George's feather picking, since I had several birds and a lifetime of experience with them. I told her that I thought George picked because he was (a) lonely, and (b) bored (this was before I joined B.A.B.A. and heard Mark Morone's great talk on feather picking). I began visiting them almost every day, bringing George goodies, toys, and some of my birds to keep him company. I also bought him regular parrot perches and a cuttlebone. Even though his feather picking stopped, he never did grow new feathers on his chest and belly, and only grew a little down on his wings. After about a year, the couple had an argument and my friend moved out. Her boyfriend didn't want George and she asked me to keep him until she was settled in a new apartment (George, not the boyfriend!) Because George was so loud she was afraid her new neighbors would complain. I gladly agreed. Later, she told me I could keep him.

In my apartment, George turned out to be an escape artist. He would figure out ways to open his cage and fly over to the parakeets' and cockatiels' cages. On several occasions I returned home to find them covered with blood and a toe missing or a nasty bite. I solved this problem by "escape proofing" his cage with two large rocks.

George let me know his feelings right away. I learned to recognize the meaning of his squawking. The early morning squawks meant "I'm hungry, I want food." The afternoon squawks meant "I want to go out and play," and the squawks at sundown meant "It's getting late." George learned to come when called. I would go across the room or into another room, hold out my arm and call him, and he would come flying to me, no matter where I was. I would reward him with a kiss and tell him he was a "good bird." He became very affectionate, kissing me on the lips while making kissing noises.

Then a catastrophe occurred. I put a regular mirror (not a bird mirror) next to his cage. He really liked it, but within a few days he stopped eating, became listless, and so weak that he fell off his perch. The weakness happened at night. I called my mother, and she and I stayed up all night with him (she is retired and also loved George). Whenever he'd fall, I'd get up and put him back on his perch. I also fed him a mixture of baby cereal and water with a syringe, coaxing him to eat; since he was so weak, I was afraid of dehydration and starvation. At 9 AM the next morning, I took him to Dr. Heidi Hoefer at the Animal Medical Center as an emergency case. Just from the history, she recognized lead poisoning, and immediately administered an antidote and hospitalized him. George pulled through, and afterward my mother wanted to keep him. I visited them daily, and they were both happy. She taught George to ring his bell and bow on command.

Unfortunately, my mother later got sick and was hospitalized (she's since recovered). At that time, a redheaded three year old female named "Baby" became available at 33rd & Bird. My mother and I thought it would be a good idea for lonely George to have some female company, so we bought Baby for George. Mike Held, the owner of 33rd & Bird, kept both birds at his store and gradually introduced Baby into George's cage. After they became cagemates, my mother was too weak to care for them, so George and Baby came back to my apartment where they've remained.

Baby was a hand-fed bird, tame but very shy when I first got her. George has taught her to bite (though not hard) and become more aggressive. George, in turn, has become much more mellow. It seems married life agrees with him! Now they do everything together. They both kiss me at the same time. They bow together and say hello; they even squawk together when they want something.

So, if you happen to drive past East 54th Street and hear a deafening squall, honk your horn and say hello. It's George and Baby!