Pickles The Parrot: A Humorous Look At Life With An African Grey Read Online Free PDF Page A

drop a limited
amount of feathers.
    One day, he climbed down from his play stand
at the shop and I was about to pick him up but decided what the
heck, let's see what he'll do. He trotted around the counter,
straight down the first aisle and made a beeline for the fishing
nets. He climbed up the handle of one leaning against the wall and
promptly jumped into the net part. Not a smart move. Anyone who's
ever tried to walk on a rope net knows this is difficult. In the
end, I had to pick the net up by the handle with Pickles tangled in
the mesh and try to unravel his feet. His struggles made it worse
so I laid the net on the floor to free him.
    None the worse for wear, Pickles proceeded to
explore from this new, low perspective while I followed, making
sure there were no flies and hooks that had dropped on the floor.
His trek took him out the open back door and into the lobby of the
hotel where somebody was checking in with a dog on a leash. What
proceeded was a gentle black lab doing circles around his owner as
Pickles scampered after him asking for a kiss. I picked up Pickles
and set him in a potted tree in the sitting area while I seated
myself on a chair. As people came and went, Pickles called "Hello"
and, of course, nobody saw him so they returned the greetings to
me. Pickles decided to head down to the dirt so that was the end of
his little excursion.
    He scared the hell out of me one day. He had
been in a frisky, talkative mood but suddenly he went quiet. I
turned to look at him and he was upside down, stuck in one of the
empty rings that usually hold his feeding dish. He had tried to go
through it, but then decided to back up which resulted in one wing
on top and the other on the bottom. He seemed quite calm, but I was
in a panic. I had no idea how to get him out and I just knew I was
going to get a bad bite trying. I held a towel below to cradle him
while I unscrewed the ring from the outside of the cage. I set both
on the floor and Pickles started to squirm so I covered him to calm
him while I figured out what to do. When I lifted the towel to
begin, I was greeted with “Well hello there!” He had freed himself
somehow and had come to the conclusion that this was just a fun
game. We have since removed all rings, in all cages, that aren’t
big enough for him to crawl through. This situation could have been
much worse had Pickles panicked. He could have lost a wing.
    Shortly after our incident, three guys
wandered into the shop, complaining they hadn’t been catching fish
the last couple of days. I stood behind the counter, giving them
suggestions for flies that might work for them and they just
grumbled that none of them were working. I was still shaken by our
little incident earlier, had a hard time concentrating and was in
no mood for miserable fishermen but I took a deep breath and
started to say “Why don’t you try…” when suddenly Pickles piped up
with “Woolly Bugger”.
    One guy looked at me, laughed and said, “We
don’t use Woolly Buggers, they’re just searching patterns.” I
chuckled and said, “I didn’t say you should.”
    “Yes you did” he argued, “You just said
that.”
    “Nooooo” I said, “HE said it” and pointed
behind me.
    “Who?!” he asked, looking like he thought I’d
lost my mind.
    I turned around to show him but there was no
bird in sight. Pickles was hiding in his little play box and I’m
left looking like some batty fly shop lady.
    I told them there’s a bird in the box but
they weren’t buying it so I called Pickles. No answer.
    The guys are looking for an escape route.
    “Pickles!” No answer.
    I walked over, peered in the box but Pickles
is just laying on his belly, bobbing his head at me. I put my hand
inside to bring him out but he gently took my finger in his beak
and pushed it aside.
    “Oh you little stinker” I said, “Tell me
what’s working Pickles.”
    “Woolly Bugger” says the wooden house.
    “SEE?” I exclaimed.
    “YOU said that!” they