I could tell you about our getting lost on our first day in Seattle—well, not so much lost as misdirected, because all we did was take the wrong bus and wind up on the other side of town—or about how Pike Place Market was a riot of shops and senses, in a way reminding me of the low-cost shopping complexes back in Malaysia. But you know what the real highlight of the whole trip all was? When I held an absolutely fetching white-chested caique on my fingers and blew on her tongue.
Blowing on Katie’s tongue |
Seow Yin and I had emerged from Pike Place, and decided to stroll over to a small park nearby for a breather. The bright sun and hot temperature defied April’s alleged “spring” qualities, and drew people out into the open as if by osmosis. Or like a well-sprung trap, depending on your frame of mind. So, scattered about the park were students, drummers, and casual tourists amidst tubby pigeons looking for a snack.
Seow Yin had finished taking obligatory photos when I noticed there were other kinds of birds in the vicinity, and not of the pigeon variety either.
A man in shorts with a bike had parked himself on the grass, and planted two cages next to him. One of them contained a couple of parrotlets, which I recognized from spending time with my bird-trainer friend. The other cage was empty and open—a green, six-and-a-half-inch-tall parrot was climbing all over him.
Well, how could I resist?
I headed over to him. A few kids sat close, watching in fascination. I was there and jumping right into questions by the time Seow Yin caught up with me. He jumped right back with answers. When he heard I had birds too, he laughed: “Ahh, one of those people, eh?”
I laughed too. “Yup!” Bird-folk will know just what we mean when we say that!
He introduced Katie the caique to us. He was proud of the curious, inquisitive bird, and who wouldn’t be? According to him, she was always turning on the air-conditioner when riding in the car, just so she could stick her tongue out at the “wind,” the way a dog pops his head out the car window. That was when he told me to blow on her, his eyes twinkling. I did, and she immediately stuck her tongue out.
I laughed. Any opportunity to catch a breeze on her tongue, she took! Katie liked my blowing on her tongue so much that she kept chirping for more, even bumping her beak against my lips as a not-so-subtle hint.
Her owner also showed me the various tricks she could do, such as upside-down ladder-climbing. One of her antics, which he didn’t display for reasons I shall soon mention, was unbuttoning shirts quite speedily. This, her owner wryly attested, has resulted in at least one embarrassing incident, involving a woman who had been holding Katie. Before she knew it, poof! Down to her navel, if you get my drift. I grinned.
I was impressed not only by the educational way the man explained about Katie to all of us watching, but how he treated her just like a person—for instance, asking her permission first before I could scratch her. It was an opportunity for him to acquaint the curious public with something they hadn’t seen or held before. “But these are not good pets to have,” he warned, describing Katie as akin to an intelligent three-year-old with ADD. In other words, a big responsibility not to be taken lightly.
Seow Yin and I eventually had to leave to catch up with the other sights in the city. I felt a bit forlorn to have to part company, and kissed Katie goodbye on the beak. Her owner grinned at that.
As we walked away, he called out to me, “You come back again, y’ hear?” He winked. “Like in another half hour?”
I laughed and waved at him. Often the best part about going somewhere new isn’t what you see, but who you meet. Especially when that “who” happens to be an insistent scamp of a bird.
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