The Taming of Nisa

Part I

When I finally arrived at the cage Rick was still growling, but at a lower tone. I continued to speak calmly, as he watched my every move. I realized, looking at his beak, that one false move could mean my instant death if he were to escape. Unfortunately, I noticed he had neither food nor water; I had to open the door. He was now ferociously eyeing me from the extreme top and back of the cage. I thought as long as I moved slowly and calmly, I'd be safe. I was wrong. I opened the door, reached for the water bowl, and in a flash he was on me, trying to expose the bones in my arm. I didn't expect such searing pain. A scene from Hitchcock's "The Birds" flashed through my mind and I jumped back with this homicidal maniac still trying to sever my arm at the elbow. He flew off screaming and ran under a nearby bureau. I dressed my wound and took the opportunity to fill Rick's food and water bowls. Rick was growling as he hid under the bureau. Although I was now very leery of him, I was afraid that if I left him out of the cage, he would injure himself. I took a deep breath, got an old shoe box and cornered the frightened bird. I got him into the box, put the lid on and carried this terrified screaming creature back to the cage. I got him in and shut the door without further injury to either of us. I sat down and wondered where Rick had come from.

I knew my mother had wanted an African Grey because they were considered the best talkers, but was this animal a pet? He seemed wild, untamable & ferocious. I couldn't imagine this bird ever trusting & loving human companions, but Rick had a lot to teach me about the spirit and intelligence of a wild-caught African Grey.

Part II

I thought Rick and I were making progress, when , one week, I noticed some bald patches on his chest. The patches grew to cover large areas of his chest, neck and legs. Poor Rick had started plucking his feathers. He looked decrepit and I started calling him Buzzard. I read everything I could on African Greys, to try to help this pathetic creature, but the information was woefully inadequate. I tried to view the situation with Rick as a cause and effect relationship. I figured he was plucking out of fear or anxiety, so I tried to spend extra time with him. I experimented with different toys and I gave him a wide selection of fruits & vegetables in an attempt to discover his favorite foods. It seemed that Rick was more willing to try a new food if he saw me eating it, so I would cut up the fruits & veggies next to his cage and sample some before making an offer to him. I really felt this "eating together time" was a major breakthrough with Rick. He realized that I was not out to hurt him. It was during one of our "dinners" that Rick stopped mangling his papaya chunk, looked at me and said "Hello Buzzard" in my voice. I was astonished! I started laughing and Rick said in a plaintive voice, "Poor Buzzard." He sounded so sad and full of pity. He may not have been "tame" yet, but his vocabulary was growing.

The process was long. Weeks would go by with little interaction from Rick, and then suddenly he would seem thrilled to see me. Part of the dilemma with Rick, was that I was still at school and only saw him on the weekends. After some negotiation, it was decided that Rick should come live with me, since he was deemed "useless" as a pet. Shortly after, Rick stopped plucking his feathers. Over the months, Rick and I strengthened our bond, but I knew the next step was the scary one... to get Rick to perch on my hand. I wondered how it could ever possibly happen since "hands" were used to move him from Africa to the United States, and no telling how many pet stores, not to mention quarantine stations. I just started putting my hand on the cage, and leaving it there while he watched me. This scenario went on a long time. I'm sure a bird behaviorist could have gotten Rick on their hand in one session but I did not have that knowledge. Eventually Rick would move right up to my hand and rub his head against it. I let this go on a week or two and then offered to pet him. He accepted it, but would often realize what was really happening and then get scared and bite me, so I went back to step one. One day he climbed on my hand and I very slowly lifted it up. It was actually easy. I don't know if it's because I took so much time letting Rick get used to my hand or if I just caught him off guard every time, but he never seemed to have a problem sitting on my hand. I just kept repeating this process, establishing a routine so that Rick would not be scared. He would come to me hand, I would pet him, he would climb on my hand, and I would pet him more.

This by no means implies that I did not get many bloody gashes on my hands. He was still wild and would throw tantrums, but I began to learn from his body language when he might go into one of those moods, and I would leave him alone. Don't push, but don't stop being consistent. All I can recommend is keep up with the repetition, and if you are forced to go back a step, go back. I have now had Rick well over 14 years and we have progressed very nicely in our relationship. I can actually handle Rick better than many domestically raised parrots, but I still receive a terrible bite once in a blue moon. Sometimes I wonder if Rick trained me more than I have tamed him. Maybe I just learned how to relate to the little guy, going very slow.