The parakeet now has a name: Chester.
Because of his subdued and distinguished colors, we wanted a name that suggested seriousness. However, it also had to suggest clownish sillyness, because that’s what they’re like as birds.
Some rejected names: McNugget, Griffy, Steve, Bruce. (The last two because budgerigars were originally Australian birds.)
He’s starting to be a lot more cooperative about being taken out of the cage, even when it’s to squirt antibiotics in his beak. He also happily jumps onto my hand when I catch him running across the floor, but he still tries to fly around. Yesterday he seemed a lot happier and more alert, singing a little during the day and apparently watching the TV with us. He also likes to sit with me by the back windows and look at the yard.
At the weekend we bought him a fuzzy bird bed. I wasn’t sure he would use it, but this morning he shuffled out of it with bed head–a fluffy feather poking out from his head. Now he’s done his morning stretching exercises, and is cheeping at me to put some music on.