Bird Terror

At one stage when I was growing up we had a pet budgie.  We were terrified of him.  He was a biter.  A stray finger in his cage or even the most gently offered out hand would result in a sharp, stinging nip.  We’d let him out of his cage to fly around the back of the house, our hands folded up carefully within stretched out jumper sleeves.    He’d fly around in a bit of a rush then come to a sit still on your shoulder, where he was in prime position to terrorise you.  It was a strange sensation, having this small, vulnerable body perched next to your head, and feeling the closeness of his little skull next to your own, almost sensing his feathery little cheeks near your skin, and the quick, clawing sensation of his movements.  At any moment he might land a sudden nip to your earlobe. We never had any idea how we were going to get him back in his cage.   I’m still amused to remember the particular look on my dad’s face in a panic with the bird on his shoulder, eyes squinting and features contorted, he kept yelling at us to, “Get him off!  Get him off!”  And of course the rest of us were too scared to come to his aide. 

Viv Miller

Cocky Escapee

We always had birds when I was growing up and our front veranda sheltered their cages from the hot sun of a Loxton summer. There was the large built in cage that had fluctuating numbers of  green and blue budgies and eggs that  never seemed to hatch. However my favourite was the hanging cage which was home to our pink galah, called ‘Cocky’. He could only say one thing, but did this very well screeching ‘Hello Cocky” to any family members or people passing by. It was always tricky to clean his cage, having to remove the bottom without him escaping, but we generally seemed to manage this well.

I was probably in about grade 4 at the local primary school when the escape occurred. The school was within walking distance of our house and being near the river, was home to large gum trees outside the classrooms. In those days air conditioning was not common, particularly in schools, so leaving the hopper windows open gave airflow to the classrooms, but also allowed noises from outside to penetrate the strict silence, often demanded by teachers during the 1960’s.

One Sunday, Mum and I cleaned Cocky’s cage as usual and thought we had safely secured the bottom, to the bars, before we went inside. Sometime later we came out to discover an empty cage with the bottom dangling by only one wire hook. The bird had flown the coop!  I searched and searched for Cocky, riding my bike around the neighbourhood, without any success. Quite distraught I got ready for school on Monday morning and emerged from the house to hear “Hello Cocky” from the very tall street light next to our house. Thank goodness Cocky has returned but our problem how was to get him back into the cage? With no time to do so I had to leave it up to Mum who sent me off saying, she would think of some ploy to get him in. However Cocky had other ideas and decided to follow me to school. Obviously carefully watching me, he set himself up in the nearest gum tree to my classroom and spent the morning calling out “Hello Cocky” to me in class and to all the children at recess time. He had a great time and I just felt embarrassed every time the classroom quiet was penetrated by his screeching. It was also an era of running home for a hot meal, if you lived near enough to school, so off I sprinted at lunch time. Naturally Cocky followed me and thankfully decided that he was hungry as well and without too much trouble flew to his cage to get something to eat. Mum and I were quickly able to return him to his cage, where he remained imprisoned for the rest of his long life.

It’s funny, but these days I hate the thought of birds being caged and now, in 2011, I probably would let him have his freedom, while providing a food supply he could access if needed.

Gwen Waters

"Ken's got no teeth"

My Grandma Margaret and Grandpa Ken loved each other, they showed this in unusual but endearing ways including, trickery, jibes and ballroom dancing.

The story goes like this, they aren't the most pet friendly family (that gene sure skipped me as I wake up with a mouthful of cat fur each morning) only two pets over the years a dog named Ayeesha Inglebritensen and a budgie named George. My Grandpa was well known for two things his homegrown and made apricot jam and the fact he only missed two days of work in fifty years. When Grandpa had to have his teeth removed he simply stopped by the dentist on his way to work and had his teeth removed then jumped on his bike and off he went.

The teeth removal was much anticipated and around this time George kept my Grandma company in the kitchen. My granny is the robust-sized, kind-hearted, great-cook, fun-loving, squishy-hug-giving variety of Grannies. All day she worked throughout the house dealing with the wake of five children and the mess and food preparation that came with it while she worked she talked to George, "Ken's got no teeth, Ken's got no teeth, Ken's got no teeth!" she'd say. She encouraged her five children to school George to say, "Ken's got no teeth, Ken's got no teeth, Ken's got no teeth!"

They resounded to the fact that George would never speak let alone say, "Ken's got no teeth!”. Then one day as Grandpa walked through the back door George bobbed up and down on his perch screeching, "Ken's got no teeth, Ken's got no teeth, Ken's got no teeth!"  

It wasn’t often Granny outwitted Grandpa. The George and Grandpa story was one that had us all giggling through our tears when Grandpa passed away in late 2010. 

Kate O'Leary

Pets I have known (1979)

A memory written by my Grandmother, Gwen Kroeger in 1979:

Although we had a number of pets at Loxton, particularly cats, my most memorable pets were early in life.

....there was “Cocky”, a Major Mitchell cockatoo, who used to scream out “Look out there!”, “Look out there!” When we teenagers came home later than expected our parents always knew because she would scream “Look out there!” Cocky used to call “Puss…Puss” to the cat.

We had a magpie which was very protective of mother in her wheelchair. It screeched at anyone who opened the gate at the front of the house, and squawked until mother stopped him.

At Loxton from time to time I have had four to five doves come to the electric light wires near the front of my home and before long to my front veranda to say “Hello” to my cockatoo, parrot, budgie or canaries over the years, and to share their food. At times they have flown to the electric light wires in front of the Church of England across the street. I always loved to see them, especially now that I live on my own.