Rehabilitating rescued and rehomed Amazons is so rewarding
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‘They must come here with a certificate from a vet,’ I told Kathrynne. Although the birds seemed healthy – disaster! Cybil, the hen, tested positive for Psittacosis. It took six weeks of treatment and a horrendous vet bill to produce a clean bill of health. Eventually, in June instead of March, the two Orange-wings arrived. Kathrynne was so caring that she stayed overnight to settle them in.
Although the parakeets in the aviary are not tame, the parrots are. I didn’t want Cybil and Basil loose in the aviary if I had to net them to catch them. I put them in a 15-foot flight at one end which can be closed off from the main section. The flight has an upper and a lower door. I gave them plenty of enrichment, a nest box, swings and cut branches.
Early training
I have studied positive reinforcement training since starting with parrots. One of the main tenets – as I understand the theory – is that the bird makes a choice to comply with your requests. Remove the favourite food from the diet and the bird (in principle) quickly learns to work for you to earn the reward. Of course, training a bird that is loose in an aviary is more complicated, because the bird can simply fly away.
Neither Amazon had a step up. However, once I established that peanuts in their shell were Basil’s favourite treat, within a couple of weeks he was flying to the swing in his flight to get one. Cybil remained as shy as a wild caught. Given that they had spent a year closely confined and then five years in a 9-foot flight, the skill of their flying made me believe that they were probably wild caught. Basil began to greet me with wing raises and wolf whistles. Cybil always acted as if I were Frankenstein’s understudy, and put herself as far away as possible, and turned her head away.
Adventures
Some of the early incidents with the two newly-arrived Amazons were a mix of hair-raising or amusing – depending on how strong your nerves are or how prepared you are to let parrots find their own level of interaction.
One morning at breakfast, I opened the top door to accustom the new birds to the sight of the others (six parrots and a dozen parakeets). To my astonishment, Basil flew out and made a beeline for the old Amazons’ flight which was open. A lot of shrieking from the two male Amazons. Unsure whether Basil and Archie were making friends or sparring for a fight, I picked Basil up in a towel, kept his head free and walked swiftly back to his flight. He did not seem to react badly.
After that incident, I kept the young Amazons shut into their flight. When in the aviary, I opened the top flight door to let the other parrots make a visit if they wished. Perdy, the Lesser Sulphur flew in with enthusiasm. Basil’s body language must have conveyed some stern message, for she flew onto my knee and stayed there for the whole visit.
Cybil falls ill
This hen was one of the shyest birds I’ve ever met. Soon she was staying most of the time in the nest box. At first I thought this was breeding behaviour. As three weeks passed, it grew evident that she was ill. Her belly was swollen; she was barely eating. The vet’s prognosis was poor. The swelling was probably liver damage; he doubted Psittacosis.
We both agreed she was too ill to take to the surgery for tests. He thought she’d probably die, but we could try Baytril antibiotic, administered by me. Treating her twice a day was easy; she was too poorly and weak to object. I could take her out of the nest box with a towel and administer the syringe. Basil would fly at me and try to bite as I approached. Within a couple of days he desisted. What made him accept my treatment of his partner? Personally I believe parrots have a huge intelligence and ability to understand situations in a changing environment. Once Cybil had gone back to the nest box, he himself would still fly to a stick for a nut, but less often than before.
Cybil recovers
From my notes:
Saturday August 30, 2008
Cybil out of the nest box when I go in at 9 am. Much harder to catch than on the previous two days. Once towelled, she remains quiet. I administer the syringe, holding her on her back. Turn her upright and try to feed one tablespoon of Recovery/Critical Care and yoghurt and Manduka honey. She gets a few drops of the mixture down. I hope this is better than syringing her. She bites the curved spoon; I hope she may start to eat from it. She swallows at times. Once released she stays out of the nest box for up to 30 minutes. I have seen her eat a banana chip.
After the antibiotics were finished, she’d gained strength, but was barely eating. Her keel bone was sharp to the touch, many head feathers missing. I hand fed her twice a day. She never tamed enough to take the spoon willingly, but with the semi force-feeding must have swallowed between 30 and 50 grams a day. Isabel Sampaio from Portugal sent a homeopathic appetite enhancer which I spiked into grapes. Whenever I entered the aviary, both young Amazons flew elsewhere. I had low expectations of ever handling them. I never expected the bonus that Cybil would grant me later on.
Relations with the other birds
The summer following Cybil’s recovery, I decided to let the young Amazons into the large flight, although they were not stick-trained reliably. I reasoned that for Cybil, sunlight and space would be curative. I monitored their reactions to the two cockatoo hens, the two Timnehs and the two Greys. Artha, Grey hen, and Basil appeared to dislike one another. I did not know that a hen will fight with a cock bird of another species. After a lot of furious wing flapping and shouting, they decided to avoid one another’s perches. Basil grew increasingly confident and would chase both Greys and cockatoos away. However he’d allow the two young Blue Ringnecks to feed beside him. The two pairs of Amazons, after their initial interest, ignored one another.
Cybil outside
The summer passed agreeably with one mishap. The electrician, carrying a tool box in Cybil’s flight, left the outer door ajar. Cybil, who had been in the main aviary, spotted the gap, darted through, whizzed past me and landed high in a tree. Les Rance, the secretary of the Parrot Society (UK), was visiting. He advised me to try an old trick – put Basil in a cage and open both external doors. Basil called his mate at the top of his voice (Amazons yells can wake the dead!) And once we were out of sight, Cybil flew back home. The incident lasted three hours. She had looked very beautiful perched in the oak tree.
As the cold increased, I fretted over the young Amazons. The shed next to their flight, like the old Amazons’ shed, has a greenhouse heater and even a little door leading into it from the flight. Like the old Amazons, they never entered willingly. The heater burned uselessly. However both looked well when spring arrived. I followed Les Rance’s advice of increasing amounts of sunflower seeds in cold weather and decreasing them once the temperature rose.
Cybil’s gift to me
Winter of 2008 – 2009 Cybil relented enough to take a monkey nut from my hand. Never any question of a step up onto the hand. However Basil renewed his behaviour, flying easily to a stick for a nut. Both Amazons would fly to and perch on the training stick for the nut. I began to hold the stick at right angles. Cybil would gingerly place one claw onto the stick, grab the nut and fly off. Little by little, she desensitised to the stick, and by May was perching on it and even flying the length of the aviary to land on it and grab her nut. As the weather was warm, the aviary birds had sunflower seeds removed from their diet. Was this the spur that Cybil needed to overcome her distrust of me?
From my notes:
August 14 2009: A fantastic breakthrough today! Both birds have been flying to perch on cue and flying to a stick with almost 100% accuracy. Today I asked them to fly to my hand. Cybil did so three times and flew off with a nut. On the fourth time she stayed on my hand to eat the nut. I left it there. Her body language is snatch rather than relaxed. Basil will fly to stick, but NOT fly to hand. The best he does is put one claw on palm. So peculiar that shy Cybil will perch on the hand but Basil refuses.
August 21: One week after Cybil flew for the first time to my palm from perch, she has done so again at least twice a day for monkey nut. But it is not a confirmed behaviour. The feel of her warm claws on my palm is like a present each time she does it. I know she’s not tense, because she feels light on my palm. Sometimes she flies straight to the perch and jumps onto my hand. Other times she flies to perch and then flies to another rope. I have no idea of why Cybil’s body language alters. She is more reluctant to step up if someone else is nearby.
August 22: Vernon Timneh was flying to perch and rope for nuts. Basil sent off Vernon. Once Vernon was gone, Cybil landed on my palm lightly and ate the nut, standing there. First time!
September 15:Stores ran out and I have not had monkey nuts for a week. At first Cybil would not fly to the hand for peanuts. Eventually she compromised for banana chips, but did not stay on the hand to eat them. Basil would not fly to me, but he would fly to the perch and also fly to a stick.
Today new supply of monkey nuts arrived. (Roasted them in case of fungal contamination.)
As soon as they realized that my pocket was stuffed full of monkey nuts, both Amazons flew to stick and flew to my hand at every asking. Even Basil, after he had watched Cybil twice.
If I hold out my left hand and don’t show the nut, Cybil will veer away and land elsewhere. Once she sees the nut, she will land on the left hand. Basil is shyer. I don’t understand why Cybil, who was the shyer of the two when they arrived 18 months ago, and whom I caught twice daily for six weeks to medicate, will fly to me so readily. Is it a sign of avian intelligence that Cybil conforms to my requests so much more readily than Basil? She will also fly to the hand for a grape, although he will not.
Winter
In the run up to Christmas 2009, the pet birds are enjoying the warm inside the house. Since there are ample sunflower seeds around in the aviary, the Amazons are less willing to fly to me. If I go to find them, Basil will step up onto the stick and Cybil will step up onto the hand. Once she has the nut in her beak, off she flies.
It is an ongoing learning experience (and a great delight) to have these four birds in the aviary. As Rosemary Low has recently written, breeder and parrot owners could put aside an aviary or part of an aviary in order to protect and nurture ex-breeding birds or birds in need of new home. The rewards are not as obvious as those with one’s bright new baby parrot. As you can see from the above account, to gain their trust and to watch them thrive – this is the real reward of rescue and rehoming.
Epilogue
The story of my Orange-winged Amazons has a poignant epilogue. The winter of 2009 to 2010 was the worst for many years. From Christmas until January, temperatures hovered around zero. I shut Archie and Lena in their shed which has a 100 watt heater, but even so the water was lightly frozen in its dish. In February, the weather eased off a little, but it was still very cold. By March spring had not yet arrived. I noticed Archie seemed listless, and didn’t call out his cheery “Hello,” each morning. The extended cold season perhaps?
March 3: Archie has not seemed right for a week or so. This afternoon I found him on the ground of his flight. I picked him up and put him on the shelf in his shed where I put their food dishes; he could only balance with difficulty. I brought him and Lena indoors and put them in the large travel cage in the conservatory. I have no hospital cage, but the large travel cage is dim and the temperature in the conservatory is warm.
In the early evening, Archie seemed to perk up a little. I put a low branch one inch off the floor and he perched beside Lena. He had lost weight and his keel bone was showing. He nibbled a few seeds of millet from my hand.
As luck would have it, our vet was away that day. I arranged with the reception to bring him in perhaps at 8am next morning.
Later in the evening, Archie appeared worse. He had gone to the back of the cage. I gave him 200 cc of water and honey from a syringe. Timi Timneh, a friend of the old Amazons, perched on top of the cage. The other six conservatory birds took no notice. It was warm and quiet. Later that evening, Archie was gripping the front bars of the cage with his beak, which I’ve noticed ill birds tend to do. He was warm and quiet.
I went to bed at 11pm. I could not sleep. At midnight Archie had not moved from the back of the cage. I went to the conservatory again just before 1am. In the conservatory the birds were asleep. Archie was lying on his stomach, at the back of the cage, with his head to one side. His right wing flapped; I think it may have been the actual moment of his death – beak a little open and eyes open. Lena was perched at the front. It was 10 past 1.
I left her with him until the morning. At 7am, she was standing beside him, but left her position to come to the front of the cage to eat some breakfast. At 8am, I took Archie away and drove to the vets. I wanted a post mortem. The vet carried one out and called in the evening. Archie had died of heart failure. I fetched the body, neatly wrapped in a surgical cloth.
We were having a family weekend and the grandchildren wanted to bury Archie under the walnut tree, where three dogs, two cats and some birds are at rest. Naomi, my six year old granddaughter, insisted on seeing him for one last time. Our whole family and all our friends were fond of Archie, always guarding Lena and always ready to call out Hello and step up onto a hand. I unwrapped just his head – a very dead parrot, but peaceful. Naomi insisted on holding him and kissing him.
Lena was back outside in her flight. When I showed her the corpse she emitted fear responses, hissing, squawking and wing flapping; she no longer recognized it. The two boys dug a hole. How small a bird’s body is. We covered him up and I placed a cement block over the hole in case Mr Fox came around. I miss him very much; I don’t know how much Lena does.
Dorothy Schwarz is a short story writer, and has been published in various literary magazines. With her husband, Walter, she has co-written two books on sustainable living – Breaking Through (Green Books) and Living Lightly (John Carpenter). She began to write about her African Greys, Artha and Casper, in 2002 and was a contributor to Parrots magazine for 6 years. Dorothy now writes for the Parrot Society UK and has a monthly column about companion birds in the weekly UK avian newspaper, Cage and Aviary Birds. Her articles also appear In Australian Bird keeper and the German publication, Papagien.
