It has been a long time since I’ve had a pet who hasn’t talked to me!

I sometimes forget the distinction between Phoebe making bird noises — which come in good and bad varieties — and Phoebe genuinely seeming to have a conversation with me and other people. It can be hard to tell the difference. Is he squawking because he’s agitated/wants something or does he actually think he’s part of the conversation?

Yesterday, I was sitting outside the neighborhood cafe with Phoebe and one of our regular friends there, George, was sitting nearby reading. At some point when George and I were talking, Phoebe began vocalizing. He was sort of clucking like a chicken, which is probably the closest he comes to seeming like he’s actually talking.

Phoebe has a routine (which means that I have a routine) and it looks roughly like this during the week:

Between 6 a.m. and 7 a.m.: Phoebe starts squawking in his sleep cage, which is in one of the bathrooms, generally the darkest and quietest spot. I take him out to his big cage, give him head scratches, hide a treat in one of his foraging toys, and put a show on the TV for him to watch for a while. Lately, I rotate between “Monk,” “The Good Place,” “30 Rock,” and “The Nanny.” Then I go back to sleep for a little longer.

Around 8:30 a.m.: After I get up, take his dog brother for a walk, and get my breakfast, I typically start work. By this time, Phoebe needs a morning nap — which he takes on my shoulder while I work.

Around 10 a.m.: Nap time done. He’s ready to play. I take Phoebe into the bathroom and toss his toys around.

It has been a few days since the last Phoebe update. The most visible development is that one of Phoebe’s wing feathers is hanging off of him at a weird angle because it’s barely still attached. Phoebe has apparently been chewing at the feather, and I’m sure he’ll sever it entirely within the next day or two. It’ll grow back again, but for now all of Phoebe’s long feathers are on his tail.

Phoebe has been going to his cafe for the past several days. After I get a coffee to go, I give him the cardboard sleeve and he runs around on the tabletop outside to toss it. The past couple of times, Phoebe has had people stop to play with him — mostly his friends who work at the cafe and one of the regular customers who he knows. I’m always worried that Phoebe will inadvertently bite their fingers when he’s in play mode — because he’s inadvertently gotten me plenty of times while playing — but I think he’s being careful to not bite his friends.

Phoebe also got to eat a Patter bar, which is basically a nut bar with date filling. We have a system where Phoebe picks out the nuts and I eat away at the date part to expose more nuts for him.

Phoebe was very tolerant of his dog brother today. For some reason, Percy was visibly on edge and needed to be near me at all times, including while I was with Phoebe in his play place (the bathroom). Although Phoebe is normally fine around Percy, it’s a different scenario when Phoebe is playing and running around on the ground. He can potentially nip his brother’s feet, which I assume he does to be playful rather than aggressive.

Although I did have to create some space between them, Phoebe was largely chill with his brother sitting on the floor while he was having playtime. I think he views Percy as a roommate who has weird habits but is otherwise harmless.

As always, I took Phoebe to Rosebud Cafe. Because the tables where we normally sit were in direct sun, I took him to the shadowy side of the cafe to play with his cardboard sleeve toy. He said hello to all of the people walking by or entering the store. None of them said hello back — although, to be fair, what he says doesn’t exactly sound like “hello” to the untrained ear.

I took Phoebe to Rosebud Cafe again this morning. As I was leaving the building, we ran into his babysitter from while I was on vacation. He told me that Phoebe actually was friendlier to his girlfriend than to him when they came by to check on the animals. I said that Phoebe can be arbitrary in showing affection.

We briefly stopped by the park next to our building. There was a squirrel in a nearby tree, and the two animals eyed each other for a couple of minutes.

At the cafe, there was a small line of people indoors, so Phoebe and I sat outside until it cleared out. But a bunch more people arrived, meaning that we wouldn’t be able to see our cafe friends for a while.

As I expected, Phoebe plucked quite a few of his feathers while I was on vacation. But he doesn’t look as bad as I imagined, and his tail feathers are largely intact. I was surprised he didn’t shred all of the toys I hung in his cage before I left. I wonder if he got sufficient exercise from playing with the babysitter and didn’t need all of the toys.

I brought Phoebe a gift from Europe: A British toilet paper roll. He shredded it as quickly as the American toilet paper rolls, so I guess there’s no difference between them.

I am returning from vacation tomorrow, so I’ll be able to resume the regular Phoebe content soon.

But for now, I want to introduce you to Phoebe’s dog brother, Percy.

Phoebe came first, in December 2019. Then in May 2020, my wife adopted Percy. He was about six weeks old, and 21 years younger than his bird brother. I was initially worried that a dog would present a danger to Phoebe in the household. I didn’t immediately think that the bird would actually bully the dog.

The babysitter says Phoebe is doing great and is eager to play. It’s not the exact same playtime he gets with me, but Phoebe is apparently doing cup tossing/shredding with his new friend and he looks healthy.

I wanted to explain one aspect of Phoebe’s life that can be pretty scary. When he grows new feathers, they look like tubes of varying sizes. They’re called “blood feathers” because they are filled with blood in the part that’s still morphing into a feather.

During grooming, Phoebe will peel back the film on the tube and reveal the feathery portion as it grows in. Eventually, there will be no more tube and he’ll just have a feather. If he were a normal bird, his feathers would regrow occasionally and gradually. But because he has a feather plucking compulsion, he gets blood feathers more frequently.

I’ve heard from the babysitter that Phoebe is doing fine and he’s willing to play with his new caretaker. So since there’s not much new to report, here is the story of how I adopted Phoebe in the first place.

In December 2019, my wife and I (although it was mostly her) were looking for a new bird to adopt after our previous pet died. We came across The Gabriel Foundation, which is a bird rescue located about 40 minutes outside of Denver.

The facility is in the middle of nowhere, with a main building that has the office and several rooms of birds in cages. Then there are additional trailers with birds and an outdoor enclosure with netting, where I assume the birds are allowed to be in the summer months.

We had to visit multiple times before we could adopt a bird. The first visit was educational and we got to see a handful of birds who might be adoption candidates. I wasn’t looking for a big bird, but most of the birds for adoption were bigger and/or older. Some of them had an aversion to people or a bad feather plucking habit.

I’m taking an extended vacation for the next 10 days, which means Phoebe will be home alone. Not “alone” alone, because his dog brother will be there and a baby sitter will be stopping by multiple times per day. Unfortunately, Phoebe will be deprived of shoulder time, outdoor time, playtime, walk-around-the-building time, friend visitations, and his sleep routine. But at least he’s able to stay at home with his big cage and his toys and his view out the window.

In the morning, I drove Phoebe to the Clear Creek Trail in Golden. There were a lot fewer people out walking on Memorial Day. We went early enough that Phoebe was still lethargic. He tried to sleep on my shoulder in the car, and then he was mostly content sitting and watching the water move.

In the morning, Phoebe and I played pretty hardcore with one of his favorite toys — a pickleball. Normally, he takes a morning and/or early afternoon nap on my shoulder.

But right after playtime, I took him outside to his tree, where he did a little bit of bark chewing and sat listening to the outdoor birds. I noticed he has a lot of flight feathers coming in, although some of them are showing signs of mutilation.

After tree time, I took him to Rosebud Cafe. There was a line indoors, so I didn’t take him inside right away. Normally when that happens, he’ll protest and indicate to me that he wants to go inside. This time, he didn’t object when we sat down outside next to the window. He spent a few minutes watching his friends working, but then he started doing his naptime routine — getting puffy, doing some light grooming, getting very close to my face.

It’s finally above 65 degrees in Denver again, which means Phoebe got to go outside.

We’ve lived in our current building for six years, but for the first few years I didn’t take him out. I was afraid he would get scared and fall to the ground. Eventually, I brought him to the small park that’s next to the building. There are evergreen trees that have low enough branches for him to perch on. He also enjoys picking the ants off of the tree trunks like a predator.

For about a year now, I’ve walked him to the next block to Rosebud Cafe. It has outdoor seating where he can watch everybody and, more importantly, he’s allowed inside. I’ll write more about that in the future, but going to see our friends at Rosebud is one of the highlights of our day.

It remained fairly cold in Denver, so Phoebe had to stay in the warm rooms and away from his big cage and his windows. When I took him to his big cage for dinner, he didn’t want to leave. I have to bribe/trick/persuade him to come with me in those circumstances.

Tomorrow it will be hot enough to go outside again, and his routine will be back to normal.

What do you think is the most common question that people ask me about Phoebe?

My name is Michael. My bird’s name is Phoebe. For reference, this is us:

This website is intended to give you a glimpse into what it’s like to live with a 27-year-old parrot. The is to share frequent updates and talk about Phoebe bit by bit.

A bit of history: I live in Denver. I adopted Phoebe in December 2019 when he was 21 years old. He was in a bird rescue in rural Colorado with hundreds of other birds. He had a longtime owner, but I’m not sure what happened to that man. Phoebe was in the shelter for about six years before I adopted him.