That first canary, Bert, was adoped from a home with two bully parrotlett's in it that were terrorising the poor guy. He was a male German Roller Frosted Canary - which means that he was like tweety bird with frosted tips and had a helluva song box on him. A few years later, he died, and both myself and my guy were so attached to him he was creamated. (yup that is true).
But the empty cage and the empty feeling were not to be ignored and after a respectable amount of time (maybe about a year) I went and found Ringo.
Ringo, is a Glouchester Crested Corona Canary, a breed which is known for sporting a pretty hip bang across their eyes making them look like a Beatle band member. He is from Montreal and in perfect show form (meaning his legs, feathers, coloration, bangs, crest, and song are in perfect form. We love him.
He has been mentioned in my guys Biography for work and I talk about him all the time. His personality never ceases to make me happy. He sings to rock music at the top of his lungs, spashes around in his little bath, picks at his food, "talks" to anyone who talks to him (canaries are bred for singing which means they are not able to squack or vocalize like some other birds can - so speech is not something that we expect from him).
When my my guys work schedule changed and we were both out of the house, I thought perhaps a mate or friend would be a good solution for him.
Introducing Paris. I called her Paris for two reasons. 1) She is a blonde. lol. 2) I was watching the John Stewart on the Daily Show, he was talking to Michael Moore about his health car Documentary, Sicko. Michael tried to make light of the health care situation in the states by saying that is Paris Hilton is doing ok - then we should all be doing ok - like she is our Proxy. John Stewart stepped in and said "There you have it, Paris Hilton is our canary in the coal mine!". This was the day after I adopted the lil girl canary and it seemed to perfect not to name her Paris.
She was a wild, red factor, german roller mix. Yes I said was, I only had her for a very short period of time before she fell ill and passed away. The sad thing about keep exotics, especially birds, it that once they fall ill there is almost no going back from there. Although I am getting much better at bird keeping and have a keen eye for problems, so I have been able to prevent more than save lately. R.I.P Paris.
The next pair came from a conversation at work. After a trip to Ottawa, which lead to me bringing in my star player, Ringo, to work so that a co worker could look after him for a week and a little bit - a co-worker liked him so much she suggested that I keep him at work. That was never going to happen. Ringo was a member of my family. But I liked the concept.
Bird watching can lower stress levels significantly. There constant chirping, song, movement, and otherwise relaxed and peaceful demeanor have long been in the same catagory as fish for being work place friendly pets. Off in search of other birds I went. Why I was so hell bent I have no idea.
Enter my Zebra Finch Pair, Scarlette and Rhett.
I bought them from a local breeder whose aviary was so cute and quaint, I am pretty sure I will be building on of my own as soon as I can. Rhett is the male, he is the tradition Austrailian coloring for a Zebra finch with his bright orange cheeks, zebra stripes on the neck and upper body, black chest, orange feet and the striped tail feathers that even in the washed out colors stand out. Scarlette is a female Tear Drop Chestnut finch - of the same genre of Zebra but a different color mutation.
They never made it to work. The no pets policy covered even them and I was denied permission. At first, my boyfriend didn't like them, the honked and beeped their way throughout the day and in comparison to the elegant and musical Ringo - they were quite different. But what can I say, they grew on him.
Their chatter, swinging, playing, cuddling, bathing, unison greetings to anyone walking in the room, grooming each other, and just what I came to realise as typical Zebra Finch behaviour charmed us beyond belief and they became members of the family. Little did I know that they were not done surprising us yet.
On our trip to Cuba in November - I left the pair with my mom and her mother to be looked after. When we came back we got them, Ringo, and 5 eggs.
!!!!!!!!
We were shocked! NOw I am not so surprised - after reading that finches live to mate, cuddle, eat, sleep, and play - not necessarily in that order.
The first five never made it :(.
But we didn't have time to feel bad about it before there were 9 more!
The other 9 resulted in what was to take up most of my time and my boyfriends facination for the next couple of months.
Typically, a finch needs to be about a 1/2 a year to a year old in order to successfully reproduce and raise young. Not my pair, at the impressionable age of just three months old they started trying for a family and didn't quit until they were successful (almost to the detriment of Scarlette's health). The second batch resulted in 4 live chicks. Louder and louder they got - and one day when Scarlette was out getting food for their begging I snapped this shot. There are four little almost open pair of eyes staring back in curiosity from that little basket - with their little tuffs of gray hair poking out all over the place. 
This is the progress of about a week or two - they are more aware, and squished, and loud, and I still have no idea how their mother and father managed to get in there and feed them each and every time their yells rang throughout the kitchen. Ringo, had no idea what to think of it all - but I wonder if he did know he was about to be an Uncle soon. They were getting more curious, poking their heads over the edge of the nest peering around, watching their parents, all in a little row.
The row thing didn't stop there. They still do everything together.
Over the period of a few days they had all gotten the courage to jump out of the nest and look about their cages. Needless to say this was an awesome thing to witness and they were downright adorable little grey fluff balls that I just wanted to pet. But refrained.
Here are the chicks. They have none of their coloring here - but you can begin to tell who is who.
And here they are grown. They grew up to be three boys and one girl. Two with the markings of their father, one with gorgeous black cheeks and lines, and the sister is a fawn.
They have been a pleasure and are being adopted by my parents. We will miss them - but something tells me it won't be long before the cycle starts all over again. This time I have my real camera, so I will try and document it a little better.
Ok - done gushing now.
No comments:
Post a Comment