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Monroe (the Meyers)
Monroe (aka Money, Ro-Ro, Mon-Mon, Money-Moe, Monroberto,
Mr. Softy…does everyone have 15 nicknames for their pets?) is an almost 11 year
old Meyer’s parrot who has been with us from one hand-feeding a day. I picked
Monroe over "his" (we have no idea of gender) clutch-mate for reasons I can no
longer recall but it was a good choice. (We call Monroe "he" but because he
ended up being about half the size of his sibling, I have a suspicion that "he"
may really be a "she" but it just doesn’t matter to us.)
 Monroe is something of an "evil sweetie". He’s so
incredibly cute and soft (hence the Mr. Softy nickname) that you really just
want to squeeze him which he loves, with one caveat: my husband must be the one
doing the squeezing. Monroe loves nothing more than for my husband (Johnny) to
rough house with him. Monroe calls to Johnny in his unbelievably cute voice,
"Money, Money, come ‘ere, come ‘ere, Money" while swaying manically back and
forth until Johnny picks him up. At this point Johnny proceeds to man-handle
Monroe. I mean honestly, there is nothing else to call it. Johnny grabs Monroe
in both hands with only his head peaking out. He sort of shakes Monroe back and
forth quickly, he smashes and rubs Monroe all over his face, he puts Monroe in
his pocket, he gives Monroe "razzberries" on his belly and Monroe just makes
happy clicking sounds and tries to preen Johnny’s face.
 Now, don’t get the wrong idea. Monroe likes me too and
when he’s hanging out on his cage, he’ll come over to me as far as he can and
scratch his head with his foot over and over until I give him a head rub. He
loves my head rubs and turns his whole head upside down so I can get under his
beak more easily. I can kiss him on his head and I can even pick him up and pet
him but … I cannot put him down. Monroe does not appreciate it when I want to
put him down so he attaches himself to me – painfully. One would not think that
such a small beak (he really is small) could inflict so much pain but while he
may be small, he is mighty. Monroe cannot be out on his cage when I’m vacuuming
because he likes to jump on me and not get off. If Monroe finds himself on the
floor and Johnny’s not immediately available to pick him up, I make Monroe step
onto a portable perch. Monroe fluffs up to what he believes are enormous
proportions and attacks the perch but he does step on and the number of holes in
my body remains at a constant number. I suppose with more time and patience
than I possess, I might be able to "wean" Monroe from this unpleasant behavior,
but after 11 years the "work- arounds" have become habit and I just accept this
as part of Monroe’s "evil sweetie" charm. Of course I do tell him how lucky he
is to be so darned cute because nasty personality quirks would not be quite so
forgivable otherwise!
 Like a lot of humans I know, I’m not entirely sure how
smart Monroe is. For instance, we cannot seem to get him to convert to a water
bottle even with Johnny repeatedly putting Monroe’s beak right to the tube. On
the other hand, when we are disinfecting the bird cages outside (Monroe is
joined in our household by a CAG and two Maxi Pionus ... which I'll share
stories about them another time), Monroe sits on a portable perch on the kitchen
counter bar. If I’m handy in the room, he’ll climb down from the perch and walk
around pushing his beak along the countertop in front of him like a plow. (This
is very funny to watch.) However, when I start to leave the room and tell him
I’m going, he runs back to his perch and climbs up until I return. It certainly
appears that he knows he needs to stay put if I’m not there to supervise.
Perhaps the water bottle thing is more stubbornness and lack of motivation than
anything else.
 We’ve been through a lot with Monroe, and he with us,
during our nearly 11 years together. There have been a couple evacuations, a
couple local moves, one big cross-country move, and who could forget the "busted
butt" incident? (When he was very young, Monroe was constantly jumping off his
perch and bouncing along the floor which resulted in his breaking off every
single tail feather. During one of these "tailless" times, he jumped, bounced
and broke his little bottom open requiring stitches.) By now we’ve just come to
accept all of his cute sweetness and semi-evil quirks as part of the joy of
sharing our lives with the Meyer’s who is Monroe.
Nancy
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