Why Birds - The Accidental Birdkeeper

It's 2:00 A.M.

I've just finished handfeeding four "Belgium Fancy" canary chicks, who'd been rejected by their parents. I feel like a poor substitute for a canary mother as I "cheep-cheep" at my charges to encourage them to beg, while dropping warm formula into their eager mouths. And as I carefully forcefeed one sickly chick, smearing food all over him and myself in the process, I recall when my love of birds really started.

I suddenly remembered a salesman, 20 years ago, saying "Wouldn't you rather be doing that for a husband?" I was 19, wearing a baggy men's uniform, and chopping fruit for some of the 200 birds at the Staten Island Zoo. Our Zoo was known for its reptile collection, and, like the majority of the staff, that's why I'd wanted to work there.

I'd kept many pets, but had very little experience with birds; the only birds my family had owned were some chickens. I didn't go birdwatching, but was very fortunate that my family bought the second of two houses at the end of a dirt road in Staten Island; the woods surrounding us later became Claypit Pond Park. Pheasants and rabbits visited our yard, and the ponds teemed with frogs, turtles, and wading birds. Migrating birds browsed in our organic garden. And, if you looked carefully, you could even find fossils among the rocks.

I'd had to drop out of my first college when I was trampled in a horseback riding class, and returned home to recuperate. I had no job skills, and worked at a few stores until I volunteered at the Zoo. I had to enter each cage to clean it. In my very first cage, housing two Great Hornbills, I had my first close encounter of the avian kind; as I turned to wash the windows, I was rudely poked in the derriere! When I proved myself capable of working with the birds of prey during a manpower shortage, I was offered a full-time job. I became their first woman zookeeper.

I finished college after a city-wide layoff left me unemployed. I worked in a few research positions, with barnacles to human brains. I also assisted students as a classroom laboratory technician at N.Y.U. and Hunter College.

During this time, I kept a few birds, including my now 34-year-old yellow-fronted Amazon, Vic. In my various apartments, I bred finches, doves, budges and kept other birds as pets. My cages were always near sunny windows, filled with orchids and tropical plants.

Three years ago, I became very ill. I thought I had a bad flu. Unfortunately, it seemed to linger. I pushed myself at work, but it was a losing battle. While rehearsing in a choral group, one of my favorite pastimes, I realized that I wasn't just feeling bad; I suddenly could no longer read the music! After a battery of tests to rule out other possible causes of illness, I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Unfortunately, because this illness is believed to be caused by a virus, there is no cure, and at this time, no reliable form of treatment.

I am more mobile than other patients I know, but I do have many neurological complications. I have had to give up many things I used to enjoy, and I'm unable to work. However, I am able to take care of myself and my birds. In addition to Vic, I have a Rainbow Lorikeet, Romana, a pair of Pekin Robins, and I raise a few canaries. The friends I've made in the Big Apple Bird Association, and the Kings County Canary Club, help to keep me from feeling isolated by my illness. When my Chattering Lory, Rita, died recently, I really appreciated the support I received from the B.A.B.A. club members.

I am happy to use what abilities I still have, rather than dwell on what I've lost - hopefully, temporarily. In the meantime, I am using my time at home to concentrate on my birds. Canary breeding enables me to learn so much more about all birds. And I use my sporadic nights of insomnia to try to share my bird experiences by writing for SQUAWK, while my brain is "in gear".

In my kitchen, I see my growing chicks nestled together. They shift in their sleep; then their eyes open eagerly to my voice. I realize I am content to be their "mother hen" for a little while longer. And, it's time to cook their food!