Bird Characters

Corky the seagull

During childhood I had a canary Dippy, named for his love of bathing.  A white bathtub resided in the middle of the cage where he spent most of his time. He'd splish and splash, sending droplets in all directions.  Wet feathers mingled with birdseed husks fragranced my room.

After bathing, fluffing and primping in front of a mirror, his throat shimmied with song. Dippy's repertoire included squawks, shill trills, warbling and a few peeps. His talents only showed up in the bath.

At times, Dippy hopped perches and half-flew to the highest level.  I felt sorry for him. When coaxed out of the cage he could only hop and flutter. I didn't realize the bird shop had clipped his wings.  He'd puff into a ball and seem to roll his eyes as he made a few droppings. Then Dippy returned to his cage and hopped in the bath, flustered.  What did I know of a caged bird's delight?

When my parents moved to a beach front apartment, my mother became a bird whisperer. At twilight, she'd stand on the sea wall and toss bread crumbs.  A feeding frenzy resulted.  Gull sounds and the flap of wings signaled sunset at their apartment complex. Everyone brought injured birds to her door.  She'd treat injuries or take them to a bird shop for evaluation.

Then a cardboard box arrived.  It contained a seagull that had lost most of its left wing.  The wound had partially healed so my parents decided to keep it for further first aid.  Without the ability to fly, the gull would become instant cat food. "We named him Corky," my Dad said. "Because he had energy like a cork popped off a champagne bottle."

My father also had a knack with animals.  He had grown up on a sheep ranch, training dogs and horses.  He could quiet the barking of our troop of Great Danes by tapping a dime on the window.  Instant silence resulted.  Behaviorist, B.F. Skinner would have smiled at his techniques.

After Corky healed and grew accustomed to his new environment, my parents decided he needed exercise.  Soon, he sported a toy dog's harness for daily walks. Neighbors greeted him by name as he passed.  He spent the afternoons in a baby pen on the porch where he also had an audience of walkers and friends.  In the evenings, he huddled at the foot of their bed and watched television programs.  His head bobbed and eyes seems to follow the action.

At my parents' sleep-time, Corky knew what to do. My mother quoted Lewis Carroll, "Time has come, the Walrus said." When my father whistled, Corky hopped off the bed and ambled down the hall to the bathroom.  My father helped him into the tub.  I think he received a good night song and tidbit.

Early morning squawkings roused the family to his attention once again.

Corky ate meal worms and other delicacies.  When he lounged in his playpen, his seagull friends would call and he'd answer.  He filled a void and provided entertainment and affection for my parents for many years after I'd left for college and marriage.

Creative Write:   Did you have a childhood pet that tickles memories and inspires a story?  Share a character with us.