Companion Parrot Superpowers: Flight, Choice, and Coercion
“HUH?” Butters, blue and gold macaw, wearing her harness and leashed to my wrist. We step outside onto the front porch. She hisses. Her good hiss, not the bad one. It’s equivalent to a human, “Whoa.”
She doesn’t mind being outside as long as there’s something above her head. Tree. Porch roof. Canopy. Seeing the sky, it’s possibilities, and the residents currently flying up there is just too much for a diva to take.
She’s on my shoulder with a kung fu grip. I can’t feel my trapezius anymore. I walk slow she hisses low. Today’s goal; her comfort in being inside the truck harnessed. First step; opening the door and looking into the front seat. She’s been in the truck a dozen times between hurricane evacuations and vet visits. Those times were in a large dog carrier, though.
I make our way to the parked truck by strolling under mature oak trees. Lush green canopies of leaves hiding a squirrel, blue jays, and Jack crow. They look down at Butters. She looks up, “HUH?”
Butters and I discuss the outdoors, the winds, the sun, the smells, the wildlife, and her grip. She’s busy looking down at ducks following near my feet, and doesn’t see the truck in our path. One oak is large enough to reach the driveway and keep her under a bit of canopy while I open the truck door and she screams, flying into the tree because of it. The leash is only 6 feet. It’s a bungee cord, so extends another foot before stopping her in her flap, and she lands on the lawn a few feet away. Befuddled at the failure of her wings. The harness didn’t make her radar until the harness did it’s job. Stopping her flight. And bumming her out. We’ve done a few more harness walks outside, but she’s just not impressed. For her, it’s window shopping when you don’t have money.
Before Butters and the Aviator Harness, there was Stella, cockatiel, and the Flight Suit. A diaper and harness combo that offered fashion, mess control, and some flight. It all felt too human for her. Putting it on wasn’t the issue, nor getting it off. She just froze up once harnessed and waited to be undressed. What’s the point of all that? Was her take. Winston had the same opinion along with a “what the heck is under my butt” reaction. Fully flighted and free to roam the house at will didn’t need a suit, in their opinion.
There’s also Free flying. Safe zones for flying freely, inside or outdoors. Depending on the club you join. Rules, training, and safety elements combine to create a space and time where a parrot can be a parrot in the sky or large auditorium.
And the companion parrot lifestyle fully flighted at home. We chose a flying Being; they need to fly.
The conversation around a parrot’s choice of flight, wing modification, or harnesses and suits is personal. For the parrot. That parrots fly hundreds of miles a day, therefore our parrot needs as much flight time is a romantic human view of what’s really going on up there. And what’s going on down here in our parrot’s head. Every parrot will have their own opinion on every idea we cook up.
I’m an adamant advocate for no wing modifications, allowing a parrot to fly in the house and choose their routes, locations, and views autonomously. We chose a flying Being. Their arrogance and confidence is born of that ability. Choice is what they look for first. Flight is the superpower they use to make those choices. Parrot folk shoot videos of free flying parrots in wide open areas with no trees or landing zones. Allow a parrot to free flight in areas with landing zones, and they’ll shorten that flight to the nearest, tallest element. Southern Florida: filled to the brim with wild macaws and parrots. None of them seek the lowest structure without a good reason. And none stay flying in the sky for hours like vultures. They all leapfrog from landing zone to landing zone. Flight is the superpower used to make daily needs choices. We’ve a large flock of Quaker parrots that flock over our house multiple times a day. They perch and rest on power lines and in tall trees. A flock of Quaker leapfrogging from landing zone to landing zone.
Flight is mandatory for parrots’ physical and mental health. Flight without choice is frustrating and confusing. Flight and choice with your participation are the goal. Create choices. The options are as complicated or as simple as you make them. If you or your bird don’t feel comfortable with free flight, don’t feel guilty for not offering that option. If your parrot refuses to be a kite at the end of a string, don’t feel guilt for their choice. If your bird is happy at home, flitting about room to room, cage top to cage top, shoulder to food bowl. Your parrot is flying enough for health and joy.
That’s the goal. Health and joy. For all of us.
Sharing life with a parrot isn’t a list of to-dos to be checked off. Sharing a life with a parrot is creating choices for your bird to use their superpowers that build a relationship and an understanding of who they are to you, and to themselves. Felix, influencer and African gray curmudgeon can fly. He chooses taxi service. He has all these superpowers. He’s healthy, opinionated, and prepared to choose a taxi every time he wants to go somewhere else. “HERE!” he shouts.
“You come here, Felix. You know you can fly.” I answer.
*fartsound* “HERE! herehereherehere HERE!” He’s at his nerve ending, having to repeat himself. “WannaApplePopcorn HERE!” He’s threatening to fly, wings open and slightly wiggling. Some call this begging, I call it coercion.
“Fine.” I walk over and hold out my hand for a step up. He steps up.
“THERE.” He steers me like a skateboard. Leaning in directions, coercion flapping. Because that’s how it works for Felix. And he’s happy as a clam at high tide. Until he’s not.
“DINNER!” Coercion staring at me as I try to finish up this essay. I’m trying to type faster than his impatience can grow. “I WANT SOME DINNER! HERE!”
“Fine.” I pause my work to offer a taxi hand. He steps up and I walk him back to his day cage for breakfast that he turned down earlier because I started typing over here.
He’s happy as a clam at high tide. Until he isn’t.
“HERE!”
