Watching Parrots
The mornings start with a few deep warbles. I toss and turn in bed, as the sounds and scents of unfamiliarity reach me through my sleep. Soon the warbles change pitch and become eager, insistent squawks. The morning choir of the jungle brings me out of dreams of hunting lionesses oddly reminiscent of my cat, and consciousness hits me a moment after I have put the glasses on and stared about me wildly, trying to figure out where that sound of wings originates. As I see the fine down flutter to the ground, dancing in the aftermath of the storm of wings that just blew by, I remember where I am, just a moment too late as an other low flyby graces my head.

This week I am visiting with two parrots. Don't ask me what kind of parrots, but they are not big, they are green with blue heads, red foreheads and yellow beaks. It's a male and a female, and they are named Merlin and Magic. Merlin is the "good" one. I suspect she's just the more clever one. She watches me with her dark beads of eyes, turning to my voice and going silent in warning when I make some odd noise she hasn't hear before. This happens when I talk to her in Norwegian for instance. She strongly resents being called Pip-Pip, recognizing it for the baby-language it is, and when I tell her how much I care about her opinion on that, she stares at me intently as if she's memorising the sounds in order to look them up in the dictionary the moment I forget to log off the computer and leave her with an internet connection for a few minutes...

Magic is Merlin's mate. He's younger, and according to the owner, a very bad boy. I can understand why she feels so, because he flew up to her and bit her in the face. Now he's punished, and while Merlin flutters by on her green wings, he comes walking along behind, his claws clicking against the floors. Pathetic little bird, used to the freedom of the air, now he walks with his wings clipped. Gracefully he accepts a lift, a human hand rather than a twig, and he rides it to the destination, a cage in the bedroom - or the living-room - depending on where he tries to follow Merlin.

Right now they are both watching me. They are totally silent, staring at the screen. Vain - or suspicious? I guess I should not look up fowl recipes as they are in the room. Perhaps later...