What a glorious if worrisome weekend!

BJ and I took the four dogs to camp, but we decided not to take the bird.  Nighttime temperatures have been in the 40s, and since the inside of the cabin is still unfinished and uninsulated, we were worried about him getting too cold.  Besides, he’s a bird.  His world pretty much revolves around eating sunflower seeds, raisins, and unsalted dry roasted peanuts, pooping in his water bowl, biting everybody but me hard enough to draw blood, and guarding his cage against all threats, foreign and domestic.  So we hid a bunch of food in his pine chip bedding so he wouldn’t be so bored, gave him lots of fresh water, opened his cage door, and left.

We got to camp late Thursday night and came back home on Monday evening.  A couple of friends came up Friday night and spent the weekend, too, and we all had a great time — sunny, warm days, cool, crisp nights with cozy campfires, loads of good food — and worries about the bird.

Try as I might to convince myself that he was better off at home, I kept fretting.  Was he lonely?  Did he start walking (and pooping) all over the house trying to find us?  Would he be mad enough to hate me again?  Would he even remember me?  It was awful.  I’m surprised I didn’t worry myself into a big old acne breakout episode!

BJ stayed outside with the dogs while I came into the house first to find and capture the bird, just in case.  After all, we’ve never left him alone for more than a few hours at a time, and then he could always hear the dogs on the other side of the closed bathroom door.  So neither of us knew what to expect.

I peered around the front door before opening it, then went inside, calling out to him.  Not a peep.  I figured I would start my search at his cage, so I went into the bathroom.  There he was, hanging from the cage bars, looking about three quarters asleep.  Then he saw me.

I never knew parrots could display such emotion through their eyes.  It was a sudden look of pure joy.  He ran to his cage door, hopped onto my finger, ran up my arm to my shoulder, and nuzzled his little head against my cheek.  He squawked and squeaked and chattered enough to make up for three whole days.  Then he bit me as if to say, “Don’t ever leave me home alone again!”

Yeah, life is good.