A friend from Jackie's bank branch was looking for a new home for her African grey, Sylvester. Jackie asked me if I wanted him. (She heard me say my next pet was going to be a bird.) Of course I said yes.
So Sylvester came to live with me on Monday. He also came with a cage that's five feet tall and probably three feet square and some food, toys and dishes.
Sylvester is a total kick. He's two years old or a little more and has a repertoire that is a hoot. He says "Hello" in three different pitches (Tom Selleck-like masculine and two versions of feminine). He says, "Good boy." When the cats come near he tells them, "No! No!" He makes sounds like a microwave and some Trekkie-type starship sounds; he clucks and whistles (wolf whistle and "Come here, dogs!" whistle.) He makes sounds "passing gas" sounds... On the rare occasions when he shrieks, he almost always follows it with a self-reprimand: "Quiet!"
He loves to sit on fingers and shoulders, does not bite, and spreads his seeds and nuts E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E within a two foot radius of his feeding stations. He bobs and dances, lifts one foot in a tentative wave, and laughs. When I pick up the phone to answer it, he often beats me to the punch when it comes to saying, "Hello."
The best thing about him is that he's not raucous. He has his moments, of course, but they're few and far between. As long as he gets to be in the same room with me, he's content, cheerful and happy. If I leave for a minute, he gets chatty, whistly and all masculine-voiced on me, trying to get me back... which he eventually does. At night he enters his cage willingly and is quiet all night long. I haven't figured out yet why the family wanted to give him away to a good home...
Right now he's sitting on my left shoulder. Sometimes he sits on the handle of a basket on my work desk. Another of Jackie's friends is going to make me a parrot cowl so he can sit and s--- (not spin) without messing up whatever I'm wearing. He's pretty good about waiting, though. Whenever I go over to pick him up he immediately poops before stepping onto my finger, so he's pretty well trained; I just don't know how often they have to go, so I don't always get him back to a poop zone in time.
