| |
What's a "Flitter"?
I used to have a parrot. An African Grey parrot.
The bird was given to me by a friend when I was going through an extremely tough time in my life.
For those of you who aren't familiar with parrots, African Greys are smart. Really smart. Spooky smart! My bird surely lived up to that reputation!
I was single, and at the time I wasn't much for the social scene. Being the animal lover that I am, I spent alot of time with the pet. So the bird and I (this sounds weird) bonded. I worked with the bird, training her, teaching her tricks, teaching her to talk, teaching her cuss words all sorts of stuff (her favorite line was "damn bird").
Over time the bird became brilliantly socialized, not only with me, but with other people as well. Mentally, she was like a five year-old kid.
She talked all of the time. Not just mocking words back, but true speech. She was about the size of a pigeon and she had my vocal characteristics (think John Hiatt, only with a deeper voice).
Whenever the phone would ring she would say "hello" then start mumbling, like she had watched (and listened to) me do a thousand times before. Whenever my alarm clock would go off, the bird would yell "Shower!". Whenever someone would knock on my apartment door she'd say "come in" or "doors open" like she had witnessed time and time again. One time I walked out of the bathroom in my underwear and my (hot) across the hall neighbor was standing in my living room. There I stand in my tighty-whiteys, vunerable, as my hot as hell, girl-next-door neighbor is sizing me up for all I'm worth. I duck for cover as she pretends to look away. "You told me to come in! I'm sorry. You told me to come in! I'm so embarrassed..." I look over at the bird, she's on top of her cage, looking all smug, then the bird gives me one of those looks that says "WHAT?!"
I'd take the bird everywhere. Whenever I'd go to the pool, the bird was in tow. Whenever I'd go to the park, I had the bird. Whenever I'd take a roadtrip, the bird was with me. You get the idea.
The bird and I took a roadtrip to the Georgia coast one Memorial Day weekend. I had worked all day on that Friday, then came home and packed the car (and yes, the bird) and we headed off to St. Simons Island. My parents had a place down there and I was going to meet up with them and the rest of my family for a long weekend at the beach.
I was tired when I left my apartment and St. Simons was a good three hour drive away, but I was excited to be off and I was looking forward to catching up with my family.
For those of you who aren't up on your Georgia geography, St. Simons is a small island community just off the Georgia coast. It's located across the toll bridge from Brunswick Georgia, and adjacent to the posh, high-brow, Sea Island community. Sea Island is hosting the G8 Economic Summit in a couple of weeks. Anyway, back to the story.
The bird and I are on our way. I've got a small cage for her that I used as her travel cage, but she's tame and likes seeing out so I let her out of the cage. She sits on top of the cage for most of the trip. Ocassionally, when she would get bored, she'd climb up on my shoulder for a while only to climb back to her perch on the cage.
By now we're in Brunswick. It's late. It's around 11:00 - 11:30. I make the turn onto the long toll bridge. The bird is back on my shoulder, fumbling with a quarter between her talons and her beek. I'm doing about 45 miles per hour, starting to slow down because I've got the toll booth in sight. I'm coming up on the toll booth.
Then, in a total lapse of sense, and in memory what seems like slow motion, I hit the button to roll the window down.
In an instant the bird is gone. I'm not sure if it's the change in pressure, or the fear, fight or flight response, or the wind, but the bird gets sucked out the window.
I yank the car over to the side of the road immediately. I get out, dodging traffic, I'm screaming for the bird in hopes I can find her. I search for a while-- no luck. Then the cops show up. I tell them the situation. They help me search for a while. They even call in to have their dispatcher call the local radio station to put out an A.P.B. Still no luck. It's now almost three in the morning. After three hours or so of searching the road, and the swampy coastline I give up and head on to my parent's place.
When I get there I'm depressed as hell. I've just lost my bird, my pet, my buddy.
I tell my family what happened.
As I'm giving the rundown of the past few hours, my mom, in her ever so compassionate way, finally lets go and giggles like a maniac and says "she's flat as a flitter-- I'm going to bed." then she turns in for the night.
Damned Bird!
----------------
Everytime I've told this story people laugh hysterically, then apologize for laughing. No need for sympathy. It was one of those things that just kind of happened, but gets funnier every time I tell it. Besides, I'm one of those types that laugh like a son of a bitch when somebody bumps their head and falls out flat.
5/28/2004 07:58:39 AM
|
|
|
