Crazy Tom's Crazy Days

Tommy Boy, the male budgie has been protesting lights out, almost nightly. He shows it by making that gurgly sound again and again.

But I don't budge. I cover him and Ugly Betty, inspite of the protest.
Why? These past few days have been unseasonably cool, so the balcony where they stay is almost freezing.

Good night Tommy.

" Are you talking to me?" Communicating with Birds.

LEFT, Tommy Boy does an impression of Robert de Niro, "Are you talking to me?"


The joy in raising canaries is in hearing them sing. Basically, they are song birds.

But surprisingly, only male canaries sing. The females only make an "eeek, eeek" sound, especially when they need something - more seed, water, or if they want attention from the male bird.

I've discovered that female canaries can be very territorial when it comes to their partner, much like humans.

The very first of the canaries, Lucky and her rival Corky, were fighting from start to finish. Once the male bird, Max mated with both, the rivalry got so intense that the two females would be constantly attacking each other, literally like a cockfight. I had to separate them.

But this dislike for each other persisted. As the two cages abutted each other, the two female birds would still fly up and down, perch to perch, wire to wire - in search of the best position to see the other - and be in an attack position, bodies tensed and heads forward.

It was amazing how they remembered each other and the intense dislike they had for each other, in spite of the fact that the entire canary family grew so quickly.

But on the whole, canaries don't want to be touched. When you stick your finger inside the cage, they would all fly to the farthest, the lowest, the highest part of the cage.

This anti-social-ness they compensate by singing. And how they can sing.

If only one canary would be singing, you'd thought there were several. The one who is singing can create several, as if simultaneous sounds. The reason for this, is the male canary has several throats - so he can create different sounds and pitch.

It's like you're listening to a choir - there would be a first, a second and a third voice.

But come summertime, the singing canaries would stop singing. They would regain their singing modes in mid September or for some, even later.

Now, budgies are quite different. If properly trained, these birds can become very sociable, can even talk.

Tommy Boy, for instance is very friendly. When you poke your finger at the slot of the cage, he'd immediately acknowledge you by touching his beak to your finger. Or he would bite it lightly.

He would follow your hand, he would whistle. When the music stops playing, he would call attention by whistling (he has a distinct sound).

When Tommy was alone in his cage, and he got bored, he would be running sideways, left to right, as if getting loco.

Now, that he's with the female budgie, Ugly Betty, Tommy waits for Ugly Betty to become playful with him; Ugly Betty still goes underneath the paper lining, into the bedding.

While the female budgie is snoozing, Tommy Boy would be amusing himself - looking at the mirror as if looking for another female bird, ringing the toy bell (it's his therapy) and doing his side-to-side moves.

Now, if Tommy Boy were able to use a cellphone and knew a number of a possible mate, he'd be racking up bills that would be pages-long.

Can cats and birds live together? I've got to see this one.

LEFT - Tommy Boy, mugging for the camera.


The budgies in the house have no contact with other creatures, except humans. I plan to bring in a cat or a dog. Could it ruin their routine? Or their life?


Yum yum, said kitty.
Oh, yeah? Tommy Boy replied.

You're my dinner.
You're my delirium.

You're my dessert, then.
You're my desperation.

Then, I'll see you back at breakfast.
No, I'd still be here at lunch.

Kitty claws at Tommy.
Tommy flies a-pronto.

Can you get me up?
I can get down.

Ok, I'll make you dinner.
Kitty rolls around.

The Music of Vivaldi

Years ago when I was shopping for a music CD for my canaries and budgies, the young salesperson recommended Vivaldi's Four Seasons. Eversince, this Vivaldi music has been a featured listening for the birds in the house.

Antonio Vivaldi was born in Venice on March 4, 1678. A barber's son, his father taught him the violin.

The Four Seasons is a series of four violin concerti and is his best-known work and a highly popular Baroque piece.

" In them Vivaldi represented flowing creeks, singing birds (of different species, each specifically characterized), barking dogs, buzzing mosquitoes, crying shepherds, storms, drunken dancers, silent nights, hunting parties (both from the hunter's and the prey's point of view), frozen landscapes, children ice-skating, and burning fires. Each concerto was associated with a sonnet of Vivaldi's hand, describing the scenes depicted in the music. "

When the violins of the Four Seasons are magically floating in the air, from the balcony, through the living room and into the bedroom, you can almost hear the breathing of the budgies - they are sitting pensively in their cage, while the canaries create the low murmurs - perhaps, sinking the notes into their consciousness, so that long after they've been serenaded by the Baroque virtuoso, they can launch their own rhapsody and harmonious blending of voices, this time to captivate their own pensive owner, who lovingly tends to their needs.

The birds - the bird lover - they co-exist to please each other, to caress each other's wounds or longings.

Lonely Tommy Boy

Tommy Boy, the male budgie, has not been his usual self these days. He seems confused by the ever-changing weather - one day, 13 degrees celsius, another day minus 4. And last Tuesday, it was snowing, but at noon Thursday, the sun was smiling at him.

"Where's my lady?" Tommy Boy seems to be asking.

Spring Back

The blue and white budgie, Ugly Bets, seems to be coming out of her depression; her feathers are growing back.

Ugly Bets, the budgie previously known as JLo, became depressed about two years ago, when I separated her from the male budgie, Afleck. Why did I do this? Afleck was bullying UglyBets, sending her to scamper around the cage, into the bottom floor, and at one time, causing a very bad fall which broke the female's wing. Soon, UglyBets became ill from the fall and would create a cry that pierced the heart of any human. I had to put her in a cage all by herself, and moved her into a dark and warm area of the house to nurse her back to health. And she did! From then on, I called Ugly Bets a survivor; she even outlived some of the healthier canaries.

To lessen the pain of the separation from Afleck, I placed the two budgies' cages side by side so that they still saw each other. But then, later on, the male budgie died, and that's when Ugly Bets started to get depressed. She started to lose her hair/feathers, and became reclusive. She would spend her days sitting mostly at the bottom of the cage, underneath the paper lining and on top of the soft bedding/discards from the seeds, hatching her imaginary eggs. Oftentimes, in order to bring her back to the top, I would tap the outside bottom of the cage, and then, she would come out of hiding.

When Afleck died, Ugly Bets turned her attention to the other male budgie, Tommy Boy. Now, Tommy had been originally hand-fed, so he's naturally, very human-friendly. His day starts when I lift the cage cover and he would bite my fingers lightly as I put his daily dose of water, seed, millet, and Romain lettuce, and lately bok choy. He would run around the cage following my movement, and would wait for the music to be turned on. These birds love the classics of Mozart and Bach.

As Ugly Bets eyed Tommy from afar - Tommy's cage was hanging, and Ugly Bets' was near the canaries', Tommy never responded. He was a total snob. So, poor Ugly Bets went back to the bottom of the cage, to her days of dreaming alone. She became thinner and lost hair/feather to 2/3 of her body.

As spring was arriving, I decided to bring together Ugly Bets and Tommy into one cage. Would it work, I asked myself. Tommy the natural dancer, and Ugly Bets, the recluse?

It's been more than two weeks since the two have been joined together. At first, Tommy ignored Ugly Bets; I said, maybe because of Ugly Bets' feather-loss, Tommy didn't think it was a budgie. And then one hour passed. Slowly, Ugly Bets moved into Tommy's perch. Tommy backed away, Ugly Bets followed. And then it happened. The two budgies touched beaks!

Yesterday when I examined Ugly Bets, I saw very fine "hair" growing back to her body top. Soon, she will be lovely again.

Six more weeks

Today is GroundHog Day. And this morning at Wiarton, Ontario, the groundhog Wiarton Willy saw his shadow, run back to his cage and declared " there'd be another six weeks of winter." There you go.

Tonight just before we had dinner, I went to the balcony and performed the evening ritual for my pet birds. I covered them snugly with three towels on top and two blankets on all sides of their cages, to protect them from the minus two celsius temperature. When I perform this evening winter ritual, I purposely make noise by wrinkling the clear plastic sheet which is the first layer of protection for the birds. I do this to announce to them that it is "bedtime."

The two budgies, Tommy and JLo (which I renamed Ugly Betty) would respond to this crinkly noise by doing the following: Tommy proclaims his protest to the "lights out" by giving out a crispy twitter, which means, " I don't wanna go to bed yet." JLo, err, Ugly Betty, responds by immediately crossing perches or going down, then up, to ultimately settle on her favorite yellow feeder, aka bed.

Tonight it was already 7 pm when I covered them. Usually, I do this before six p.m.

Because I was late, when I wrinkled the plastic sheet, JLo did not steer nor move. So I peeked inside the dark cage, and saw Ugly Betty already enjoying her snooze, tucked under the newspaper, comfortably embedded on the pieces of paper which she patiently shredded for weeks. I just saw her tail protruding.

Tommy on the other hand , was his usual cranky self, immediately "cackling" and only stopped when he was fully covered. Once covered, though, Tommy would remain silent and behaved all through the night, no matter how loud the television is, or how bright the light is at the adjoining dining area. These two would only wake up, no fail, at around 8 am the following morning. This they do, whether it's a weekday or a weekend. I guess, they're like the rooster, who has its own internal alarm clock.

I lost most of my canaries when I returned from Europe last summer. This being so, I do not intend to replace them. For now, I am happy with the two budgies.

And because they've lived with the canaries for a long time, Tommy and Ugly Betty have acquired the female canaries' distinct "sound." Only canary lovers would know this sound. That's why I tell friends that my budgies are bilingual.

Good night Tommy! Goodnight Ugly Betty! Here's to s

ix more weeks of the evening winter ritual.