The tale of a little fledgling Grey Lourie

In September 2009 I was quietly sitting inside the house when I heard a commotion outside, and I saw my dogs pawing at something on the ground. As I have had experience with my dogs grabbing mice and birds before, I ran outside to go and help whatever was facing their clutches at that point again! On the ground was a little baby grey lourie, or some form of a mousebird, I thought at first glance. He wasn't injured too badly as far as I could see but I brought him inside and put him inside my parrot's travel cage to calm him down. I was more worried that the little bird was in a state of shock as we all know that shock is the danger in situations such as those.

I left him in there for a little bit while I pondered helping him make it through the night. He was still a baby and I had no idea where his nest had been or the rest of his family. At closer inspection I saw that he was indeed a little grey lourie and my heart sang, because I have always had an affinity for these calling birds of the Bushveld and thought them beyond beautiful. Suddenly I had my own baby lourie and so I truly wanted him to make it through his first night and become strong and healthy and sound.

My brother got home as he was living with me at the time, and upon seeing the newly acquired member of the household just shook his head, as he knew that there would be a flood of tears the next morning should the little one not make it through the night. I got him out of the cage and tried feeding him a strawberry as I know the louries are mainly fruit-eaters. He gobbled up that strawberry! It was delicious, you could see the little wings flapping ecstatically and he was making baby sounds which probably meant something like 'yum yum, gimme more!'.

That night I put him next to my bed in the cage with lots of towels to keep him warm, and it was with trepidation that I peeked in the next morning to see whether he survived his first night. He sat there with big, bright eyes, hungry again and right as rain!

My brother named him Punkie, due to the grey lourie's upright fringe on the head when they are on the alert and he has now been with me for nearly 2 years. Punkie has a deformity on his legs which would make it impossible for him to land on a tree and hop from branch to branch as they do in the wild. He can fly, but when I take him outside of his cage, he flies beautifully although he prefers to fly around the house once whereafter he seeks me out and finds a spot on me to sit and then fall asleep. He loves feeding time, which is more or less the whole day! I have never seen a little bird eat as much as this little one, but I adore him, he is the sweetest little soul, always happy when he sees a special treat. He flaps his little wings and emits a chirping sound when he sees an especially yummy treat and he loves to bathe himself.

My dad built him a special cage that enables him to sit outside when the weather is nice and warm and he can view the garden and take a bath and look at the other birds. He listens to the African Grey and although it breaks my heart to know that he will never be able to return to the wild, I know that he is happy and healthy with me and that is as it should be.

Jayden's story

Anya and I must be telepathic. I was just thinking this morning that it was time to get on with blogging again about our weekly adventures. No specific reason why I didn't recently. It's just hard sometimes to get to between having a full time job, a husband, two kids, 1 dog and 5 horses on the property, with three of them going for lessons regularly at the riding school next door, another horse (my awesome Fernando!) on lease at my instructor's yard and fitting everything in - it is quite a juggling act sometimes! Some of my friends have told me that they really don't know how I do it. Frankly, neither do I. Fortunately there isn't time to question HOW? You just DO.

My little teensy riding school is picking up speed at an alarming rate - this despite the fact that I frequently and loudly proclaim my total lack of training in being a horseriding trainer. My style is more informal, which seems to put people at ease, as many (including Anya) has felt the snob end of the stick at proper riding shools, and was put off them due to stuck-up attitudes and know-it-alls from the people at these places. My only qualification seems to stem from the fact that I did (and still do!) so much wrong when I ride, that my poor instructor has to use every trick in the book known to man in an effort to teach me how to do it right. So I guess that qualifies me? Thank goodness Ricus has the patience of a saint. Oh boy, and I'm quite the drill sergeant for my older students, with a "hands low! heels down! elbows in! back straight!" (all those things I so regularly have to be called on when I ride!) and so it continues. I have 7 students of various ages and abilities - fromt he very young (3 years old) to a teenager. Each come for their own special reasons, whether just to learn how to ride, or as therapy for A.D.D - they all bring their own talents and personalities to the arena, which I love!

I shouldn't have a favourite student, but I do have a very special place in my heart for a boy that comes to me for riding lessons, or more for physical therapy actually. Never have I felt more unqualified than when I first dealt with Jayden. Jayden has various challenges that he has to face in his life. He is 7 years old, is blind, autistic and has Asperger's syndrome. Don't worry if you don't know what this means - I also had to look it up. In addition, he currently has very little verbal communication skills. However, this youngster has taught me so much. I thought so grandly of myself that I was going to make a small difference in his life, instead, I must humbly confess that he ended up making a huge difference in mine! His parents are incredible. They personify the Biblical meaning of love: it is unconditional, limitless, enduring and just radiates from them to their son in tidal waves. Not in spite of his disabilities or for any other reason than because of the mere fact that he is theirs to love. After Jayden's lesson on Saturday (which was a bit difficult as he kept wanting to doze off!) he decided to go for a stroll. Being blind does not seem to deter him from wanting to explore his surroundings. And he walked around fearlessly. OK so every teacher has their 'witbroodjie', and I confess happily that he is mine!! I just wonder who is the teacher, and who is the student?

I use the little Shetland pony, Elvis, for Jayden to ride on. Now Elvis, being the only male in this little herd of five, has always been my hero. But never more so than when I first put Jayden on his back. Jayden has difficulty keeping himself upright in the saddle - he will waiver and topple and squeal in delight or aggravation at any moment. He sometimes will fall backwards and then lurch forwards too, and it takes both me and his mom or dad to keep Jayden steady and upright during the ride. But Elvis is my rock. He holds himself so steady and keeps his head down and ears forward, and he just seems to understand implicitly the precious cargo on his back. He doesn't put a foot wrong where Jayden is near. I love that furry little pony! Of course none of this would be possible without the help of our trusty groom Percy who leads Elvis, and whom I rely on so much to help Jayden enjoy the ride.

Feathered friends

We've been rather quiet over the past week or so, after Murlan's tragic accident. I think both Alida and I felt a bit dispirited but life goes on and doubly so in the animal kingdom. We've been writing a lot about the horses but the A Squad is about animals in general, and so today I will blog a little bit about Aboyami Azizi, which means "Bringer of Joy" and "Precious". My African Grey Parrot.

It has taken me rather a long time, years in fact, to decide on his official names, as he may be called Aai Aai for short! Two A's for his initials, of course, with the added 'i's' to round it off nicely. He has had so many names since I've had him as a baby parrot as he truly is a ray of sunshine in my life.

I have always been fascinated by parrots, especially the bigger ones, the talkers. Early on I read that these guys are the true talking parrots and we have all seen documentaries about Alex, the African Grey Parrot who could decide for himself and come up with the right answers when asked certain questions. We have all heard or read or seen on tv, that the experts believe them to have the brain capacity on par with that of a child of five years old. All people have some idea about parrots, their ability to talk, and so, when I got my baby, I was over the moon. I have yet to return from the moon!

When I got my parrot as a youngster, he was very shy and afraid of people. When animals are afraid, they either try to hide away, or they bite out of fear. This little one was no exception and let me tell you, parrot beaks are very hard and very sharp and they draw blood easily. I did not know too much about the breed and was reading up ferociously but I really wanted to make friends and reassure my little bird that I was no predator about to gobble him up!

One day I held him, carefully, in my hand, trying to stroke his head and befriend him, but he was only content to sit with me. I had a bit of a brainwave and grabbed a peanut or two, showed him the peanut and as he happily grabbed it to start peeling it, I gradually and very gingerly started stroking his head with the other hand. He adored it and from then on we became fast friends!

Some parrots are naturally shy and others are quite social. My little one is naturally shy, so when people visit he tends to go quiet or try to be threatening by puffing himself up into a little fluffball! He has even made growling noises when children visited and he royally dislikes cigarette smoke! Needless to say, this is a non smoking environment...;-)

Alida and her family laugh at our antics, but my African Grey is more human to me than anything else. He likes to cuddle with me and readily moves nearer when I approach his cage and asks him if he would like to sit with me. He responds with a "Come" and then promptly climbs down and up onto me when I open his cage. He perches on my shoulder or he climbs into the crook of my arm to be cradled like a baby or positions himself to get a tummy scratch. When it is time for a bath (for me!) he will sit on the side of the tub and keep me company, sometimes singing along with me, or dancing or playing with the water. He gets along well with my brother, but he would never dream of taking him out of his cage, as he has bled a few times in the past for being a little too sure of himself, poking a finger into the cage for a second or so too long or simply for not being fast enough. The parrot even makes a laughing sound should he catch my brother off guard....!

Some Greys form a really close bond with their humans, so much so that they will regurgitate 'presents' and present them to their human. I have received a number of slightly digested and gooey sunflower seeds etc. You have to be really happy when you receive these gifts, as they are only given to The One in their lives. Parrots in the wild will regurgitate to their mates, and so, when this honour befalls you, you have to display the appropriate gratitude!

I have not had my parrot sexed as I believe that he is a male. There is method to my madness, as I have observed a number of other females, all of which have some kind of nesting instinct, they tear the newspapers at the bottom of the cage into shreds, they wash everything in their waterbowls and tend to be quite destructive inside the cage. They generally don't preen as much too. The females also do not make certain sounds, as I think the male may be somewhat more vocal towards the female and my little one has specific noises he makes before the regurgitation starts. I met one other parrot who also quite liked me and made the same noises, but the females may like you, yet they do not make those specific sounds. Those sounds are hard to explain, but the closest I can venture is that they sound like a little baby bird wanting attention.

Normally people are not interested in the finer aspects or traits of these birds, as described above. They want to go straight to the most popular aspect of the African Grey Parrot. Their talking. So yes, he talks, and boy does he ever talk! They are highly intelligent as we have mentioned before, and so I do not think teaching parrots three syllable swear words is much of an accomplishment! My parrot does not swear and I do not allow swear words near him as they will pick up on those quite fast for the simple reason that those words do not take much intelligence to learn. (Perhaps people can catch the hint here...)

He whistles and he sings and when he is concentrating on something you said, you can see it in the eyes and in the way he cocks his head. Listening intently to process later on. He is quite clear when he speaks and people can generally hear what he is saying,  unless it is something that he is still practicing.

He whistles the MacGyver themesong and he sings 'Jan Pierewiet' but in such a way that he has me in stitches every time I hear it. Sometimes he forgets and then he adds whatever comes into his head to complete the song or the line or the lyric. He mashes sentences that he has learnt and the outcome is often quite hilarious as well as fitting. He says "Knight Rider" with the real American twang and he will ask you what sound the Car makes (K.I.T.T, remember?) He will then proceed and make the sound...:-)

He has moods, just like people and sometimes he wants to be left alone. Sometimes he wants to stay in his cage and at other times he has to come out NOW and then he will proceed to bite at his cage, so that you can run there and open up. Sometimes he wants a snack and if he sees YOU with one and you have not given same to him, then there will be trouble.

As I wrote in the beginning, he is so much more a little person than he is an animal. He is my special feathered little angel and I love him dearly!

Murlan - A tribute

Murlan was a resident of Alida's riding school under Ricus and Chene. I met him when I first met Lee-Anne, who rode him regularly. Lee-Anne told me Murlan's story. He used to be a Railway Horse, quite used to riding hard but not so used to 'going to school' which was why she put a lot of work and sweat, frustration and heaps of love and carrots into her efforts of schooling him properly and bringing him on.
Murlan was lovable on the spot. He had a sweet disposition and enjoyed cuddles and pats, but he could perform in the arena when something did not suit him or if he decided to act up. Lee-Anne jumped with him and they looked really good together, they had an understanding and affection towards one another, even though he belonged to someone else. Sometimes in life, that happens. Lee-Anne will sorely miss his sweet little face.

Saturday was his time to go. It will always remain a shock to hear about broken bones, but ours not to reason why. Perhaps some day broken equine bones will be healed as easily as broken fingers.

We will always remember you, Murlan, because you were a living, breathing little soul, who we loved. And so, we know you will enjoy jumping Heaven's fences with four strong and healthy legs, chomping carrots and running free, another proud and noble example of your kind, safe forever.

Rest In Peace, Boy.

On an emotional Rollercoaster - By Alida

Emotional Rollercoaster

This weekend was a mixture of absolute joy, and absolute sadness and it just feels like it was a lot longer than just two days.

The Joy:

I got back in the saddle after six weeks of being grounded.  I sustained a stress fracture on my right foot around six weeks ago, and was told to take it easy.  For a change I listened (boy I must really be getting old!) and I didn’t get up to too much mischief.  I could feel the odd twinge in my foot over the six week period, which reminded me to take things a little easier.  I didn’t always – if things needed to get done, it needed to get done! 

Fernando was feeling my tension for sure.  He was chewing on his bit a lot more than usual – grinding his teeth but generally his usual well behaved self.  I was rusty but it started coming back to me pretty quickly and I even managed a good canter or two.  My attention though was not completely where it should have been.  I dismounted at the end of the lesson with the help of my hubby so that I wouldn’t place undue stress on my foot – he had me landing on the ground as soft as a feather – not a twinge from my foot at all.

The sadness:

On Saturday morning, Murlan (a lovely little school pony) broke his leg in a freak accident and had to be put down.  His owner took him on an outride, and while I was in the arena, I heard a shout and looked up to see Murlan struggle to his feet just outside the school yard.  He had (I presumed) spooked at something – perhaps at some cyclists coming past?- I wasn’t sure, but he had fallen and his owner came off too.  Chene took over our lesson from Ricus while he went to investigate and assist the owner and Murlan.  From a distance, it looked like Murlan could not put any weight on the leg.  Perhaps just injured, or bruised I hoped?  We carried on with the lesson.

Afterwards, I went to where they stood waiting for the vet.  An ambulance had arrived to take the lady to hospital – thank goodness her injuries did not seem to be too serious.  Murlan, however, was not so lucky.  As I walked up, Ricus just shook his head.  A few friends stood by, quietly holding Murlan’s leadrope.  They had removed his saddle and bridle and had put a halter on him.  Ricus said it seemed that Murlan’s leg was broken in two places.  Blood pooled in the grass where he stood quietly.  No lashing out, no drama, nothing.  Just him being his usual quiet self if you looked at his face.  But you couldn’t help but look at the leg that he held off the ground.

Tears that I had been holding back started pouring down my face.  I tried to be brave for the kids’ sake that were there, but I wasn’t being very good at it.  I said my goodbyes, got in my car and left.

Another task remained though.  My dear friend Lee Anne regularly rode Murlan and had formed a close bond with him.  She had had her struggles with him where he could barely do a decent canter and was generally a difficult little horse, and she had worked with him a lot over the last year, to a point where she could recently jump a 80cm course with him in a training show.  I had to break the news to her that he had to be put down, and to make things worse - it was her birthday.  She was at work that morning for a stock-take which was very involved and needed her full attention.  I knew I couldn’t call her right there – she wouldn’t be able to focus on the task at hand.  We celebrated her birthday on Sunday by going out for lunch with a couple of friends.  It was very hard not to break down, but somehow, with Anya’s help, we got through the day in one piece.  That evening, when all had settled, Anya and I set off to their home to deliver the terrible news.  We sat her down and I had to tell her what had happened.  Lee-Anne was heartbroken.  We all cried, hugged and cried some more.  Had some coffee, talked, and cried some more.  I was emotionally wasted.  It took me some time before I could settle down last night and my dreams were troubled. 

This morning, I feel like I have run a marathon.  My muscles are aching from riding for the very first time in six weeks, and my head feels like I have a hangover.  It was a weekend of highs and lows that I hope not to have to experience any time again ever.

Rest in piece sweet little horse.