While we were waiting for my glasses to be ready, we popped into the pet store and as usual I spent too much time with the birds.

I love birds of all forms, but intelligent bids really fascinate me. They tend to like me, too, trying to catch my attention in any way they possibly can. On a slow afternoon a few years ago, a bird handler invited me into the restricted area, and a young soft buttercream cockatiel fell in love with me, sidling out of her cage and up my arm to lean her head against my cheek, murmuring softly to me, and stretching a wing out every once in a while. She loved my hair, and was very sorry to see me go when I finally had to leave, half an hour later. My own heart almost broke. I didn’t have the two thousand dollars to leave behind in her place, however, and so we were parted forever.

There’s something wonderful about the bright eyes of birds, and how they act when different people are around. When I walk into a bird area, they usually cluster at the fronts of the cages and either screech so I turn to look at them, or flap their wings a lot. They flirt incessantly too. The first time HRH saw it happen and watched incredulously as I had conversations with them, he called me Polgara (and if you read David Eddings, you know why).

Roo has told me stories of her lovebird, and I had lovebirds hopping up and down at me today as well, saying, “Look at me, look at me!” I love talking to her canary when I’m over at her place, but as beautiful as he is, I don’t think a canary is for me. I’ve had finches and a dove, but finches are too small to really interact with, and the dove, well, wasn’t so bright. We have cats, sure, but as the bird handler told us today, she has cats and two cockatiels that walk around freely; the cats know not to bother them. (One wonders what kind of scars the felines display as proof of their acquisition of bird ettiquette.)

So when we have a larger home, and I have a room of my own, there is a bird in my future. Perhaps a conure; perhaps a lovebird. Who knows?