O. M. G.

At Christmastime, I invited my mother, brother and sister-in-law to stay for a couple of days. When they arrived, I greeted them in my cramped foyer, and my sister-in-law, Maureen went upstairs so the rest could come in with their bags and whatnot. I'd left Halle on top of her cage, thinking she'd be fine there for a minute. Wrong. As soon as Maureen got into the living room, Halle darted over and bit her on the back of the neck. She's got that really sharp beak...Poor Maureen actually bled a tiny bit, but was a real sport about it. I felt terrible; Halle hadn't bitten anyone in quite some time. Anyway, the visit went on pleasantly enough, but later, Halle nipped Mom on the wrist. Mortified, I watched her more closely. But I was out of the room the next day when Maureen got a second chomp, this time when she was trying to give Halle a treat. Sigh. This whole biting thing made the visit really stressful, and I couldn't understand why it was happening. Halle likes my Mom, and Maureen hadn't done anything provocative, unless you count her getting too close with the treat. Still, it was as if she were reverting to her very early days with me and she was on a hair trigger. The visit came to an end, and though she didn't bite me, there were several close calls over the next couple of weeks.

Halle is on medicine for her heart (yeah, who knew parrots could have atherosclerosis?) so I had to take her to the vet one Thursday. She had to have bloodwork, get palpated and weighed. I was thrilled that they volunteered to clip her talons. I'm so not going there on my own. But the vet told me Halle was overweight, and what her body profile should look like. I promised to cut back on her pistachios. She got her prescription renewed, and we went home.

Saturday night, after putting her in her cage with her covers on, I left the room. Then I heard squawking and other sounds of distress, including her fluttering her wings and moving down to the bottom of the cage. She does not consider the bottom the cage to be an actual place for a true parrot to be, so I worried. I could hear her stepping onto the edge of her food bowl with those freshly trimmed talons clicking away. Naturally I took off her nighttime covers and looked in to see what was the matter. Did she need food? Had she gotten stuck on a part of the cage or a toy? No. But she was still agitated, flapping around, making upset noises. So I let her out of the cage and put her on my shoulder, not knowing what else to do for her. Still agitated. I was frantic, and knew I wouldn't be able to get a call through to the vet on a Saturday, and I was upset that she'd been checked out just a few days ago, just a little overweight. Then I felt a tiny thump on my shoulder, then heard a bump on the carpet. I looked down and there, rolling along the floor was a perfect little white egg. Halle Macaw, after having lived with me for nineteen years, had laid her first egg.

Overweight indeed.