Merri-Todd's Aviary

Hildegard and Alexander

Hildegard and Alexander were our Original Pair, who joined our household on 11 July 1992 (henceforth known as Happy Bird Day). On a chance visit to a chain pet store, we noticed these little brown birds with white heads. We had never seen nor heard of such birds before. For about a month, we talked about getting some birds, discussing what was feasible. Then we enlisted a friend as our driver, returned to the mall, and bought a pair of White-Headed Nuns--scientific name, Lonchura maja. (Yes, that's where my e-mail handle comes from.) Hildegard was named after the great medieval abbess Hildegard of Bingen, a composer, writer, healer, and visionary. Alexander was initially named "Alexandra" because my stepdaughter liked the name; fortunately, it was easy to change to a masculine form when we noticed he was singing and giving other proofs of male gender. These two little birds enriched our lives in ways we never dreamed of. Watching them, caring for them, interacting with them brought joy during difficult times. We rejoiced when Alexander sang along with his favorite CDs and mourned when yet another chick died before maturity. Alexander died on 1 November 1996; Hildegard died in September 1997, in the same week that Diana, Princess of Wales, and Mother Theresa left this life. I am convinced that Hildegard sits on Di's hat or Mother's veil while they're having tea, and that Alexander entertains them with song.

Rosamund and Papageno

Friends of friends at the church where my husband was employed gave us this pair of Zebra Finches, complete with cage, nest, and eggs, on 1 March 1994. We were to learn that mating and breeding were the favorite indoor sports of this good-hearted but not very intelligent pair. The brash Papageno was always picking on or at his mild-mannered mate, who had to be placed in a "vacation cage" from time to time when he plucked her throat bare. Rosamund died suddenly in March of 1999; Papageno died in February 2002, after visibly failing for a while. He had a May-December romance with our canary, Nell, which turned out to be Not A Good Thing for her. His final months were spent baching it with Peter Wimsey and Abelard, who used to sit with him on cold nights, and he slipped away quietly one morning while my husband and I were out of the room for no more than five minutes.

Peter and Harriet Wimsey

A trip to our regular bird supply store in August 1996 to acquire more finches gave us Peter and Harriet Wimsey, a pair of Indian Silverbills. Identical in appearance and behavior except for a whistling song from Peter, reminiscent of the piccolo part in "Stars and Stripes Forever", they were our smallest and quietest birds. Harriet died in October 2000; Peter, having survived her by four years, died in the late summer of 2004.

Cadfael

Cadfael was in the same cage as Peter and Harriet. He, like Hildegard and Alexander, was a White-Headed Nun, the only bird of his kind in the store. I had seen him before on my last two or three shopping trips to the store, and I could not bear to leave him there any longer. He was named after Ellis Peters's sleuthing monk, then played by Derek Jacobi on PBS; Peter and Harriet were named after Dorothy Sayers' famous characters to continue the detective theme. Cadfael was a kind of big brother to Peter and Harriet, a buffer between them and the older, larger pairs we already had. Unfortunately, he died in a freak accident in January 1997; he became tangled in something in the cage at night, when it had been covered and was quite dark, and by morning he was bloody and exhausted and did not survive the trip to the vet.

Praetorius (aka Mr. Budgie)

In the summer of 1997, my husband was working the summer camp at the Episcopal private school where he teaches. Everyone knew he had birds as pets, so when the children spotted a stray bird on the playground, they immediately called for him. He captured and brought home a yellow parakeet, more properly called a budgie (short for budgerigar). All budgies are parakeets, but not all parakeets are budgies. He named the bird after the great German composer of the Renaissance who was one of the first to write music for the Lutheran church, but we soon got into the habit of calling him "Mr. Budgie" because "budgie" is such a fun word to say! Mr. Budgie was the largest bird we had yet owned, and while I wouldn't say he had more personality than our finch folk, I would say he had more pizzazz. He was particularly fond of John, who was allowed to scritch him. Alas, he died of respiratory illness just before Christmas, 1999.

Farinelli

Six weeks after rescuing Mr. Budgie from the school playground, my husband brought home a sprightly yellow Canary who had practically flown into his hand. Farinelli was named after the famous 18th-century castrato whose life and career was the subject of the recent foreign film of that name. His cage was next to Mr. Budgie's, and the two behaved like neighbors; Mr. Budgie would perch close to Farinelli and chirp at length, while Farinelli seemed to be saying, "Mm-hm, mm-hm," from time to time. When he fell ill in January 2000, I rushed him to the vet, but he did not survive. X-rays showed heavy metal deposits in his gizzard. While I have no idea how he ingested them, he must have been failing for some time. Praetorius and Farinelli, who entered our household about six weeks apart, also died about six weeks apart.

Nell

In early January 2000, after the death of Praetorius, we acquired a young female Canary as a companion for Farinelli and named her Nell. Just before we were about to take her out of quarantine and put her in Farinelli's cage, he died. In the summer of 2000, we transferred Nell into the same cage as Peter, Harriet, and Papageno so that they could stay at my in-laws' house while we went to the ocean. She seemed quite happy, so we left them that way. After Harriet's demise, Nell and Papageno mysteriously bonded and began to try to build a nest! After they had been together for some time, I realized Papageno was not a good partner for Nell; he plucked her feathers a lot, and the constant egg-laying was stressful for her despite the fact that she wasn't having to rear the young. I separated them, but Nell had developed a problem which went undetected for too long: Her leg and foot swelled up inside her identification band, cutting off the circulation and killing the tissues. Nell's right foot had to be amputated, leaving her the stump of a leg on that side. Despite this disability, she survived until the summer of 2004, impressing us all with her feisty spirit and her stubborn hold on life.

Rembrandt

Sometimes I wonder if Hildegard and Alexander were really just birds. I wonder if they were Higher Beings who manifested themselves in bird form. One reason I wonder about this is that we acquired Rembrandt the Cockatielnine years to the day after acquiring Hildegard and Alexander--and he is our third found bird. A friend of ours was teaching summer camp at another local private school when he spotted a cockatiel casually walking down the hall (I am not kidding on this). He easily captured the tiel, put him in an empty fish tank, gave him some pizza crusts to tide him over, and called to ask us if we had room for another bird. Our hearts were instantly won by this tame and affectionate creature who seemed eager to make us his family. Rembrandt is larger, more intelligent, and more high-maintenance than any of our other avian companions. He is allowed a daily playtime out of the cage so that he can exercise and interact with his family. He seems equally attached to me, my husband, and my stepdaughter, though perhaps more demonstrative with the latter because she is not around seven days a week. He perches on hand or shoulder (or leg or tummy or...), gives and receives kisses, and allows us to scritch his head and neck, a privilege we appreciate enormously. He also likes to watch shows that make him laugh, and I am sure he has his own Hotmail account.

Abelard

Abelard was my first impulse purchase bird. (grin) I stopped into a large chain pet store at a shopping plaza while my husband went to the supermarket. I was only going to buy some Nutriberries for Rembrandt (aka cockatiel crunchberries). Really I was. Until I saw a Black-Headed Nun napping a cage with a couple of other finches. Well, I had my checkbook with me, and it wasn't like I didn't have finch supplies at home.... I said to myself, one, if I don't get this bird, he will haunt me for the rest of my days, and two, better to ask forgiveness than permission. So I wrote a check, wrapped up his little carrying box in my beret, and trotted back to the car. That was 25 March 2001. Abelard, named after yet another famous monastic of the Middle Ages (philosopher, composer, lover of Heloise), became a beloved member of our household, the close companion of Peter Wimsey in his later years (slash birds?). He died unexpectedly in September of 2004, leaving us finchless for the first time in twelve years.

Julian and Charles

In June of 2002, we spent four lovely days in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. During that time, I saw two budgies in a cage on the sidewalk, a dozen or more budgies in an aviary in the front window of a restaurant, two society finches in a pottery shop.... In early July, I went out and acquired Julian and Charles, a pair of budgies. Julian, who we think is a hen, is blue and white, a lovely sky blue that seems to be sprayed onto her white feathers; Charles, who we think is a cock, is yellow and green. If one budgie is fun, more than one budgie is exponentially more fun, and these two have been a joyful addition to our home.

Mango

Mango is a pearl cockatiel hen whom we are birdsitting. Her owner is a student of the local art college who has gone to study in Argentina for the second half of '04. She happened to mention to a neighbor of hers that she was concerned about finding a keeper for her bird before she had to go back to her home state and then leave the country; her neighbor just happened to be someone who has known me since I was about seven, and knows I have birds. Mango has been a delightful addition to the flock, fluffy, feisty, mischievous, and totally in love with my husband--she's Daddy's Little Girl now that our daughter is nearly eighteen. We have the option of possibly keeping Mango permanently, and we are thinking seriously about it.

Bird Links

Created 23 June 2001.
Updated 30 November 2004.
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