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.

He has a handful of quirks. First, and most obviously, he still has a feather-plucking compulsion that he developed after being caged in a shelter for years on end. Second, he tends to frighten easily. People and animals don't scare him so much, but new objects or noises are dicey. For some reason, he hates baby strollers. More on that later, probably.

Finally, he is very bonded to me.

All right, that’s the high-level overview. You’ll read more about him over time (and maybe about me, but this is really Phoebe’s website). Since this is a diary, I want to talk about what Phoebe did today.

It was uncharacteristically chilly in Denver. And because of how our building’s HVAC works, the entire building is in air conditioning mode for the summer. So there was no heat. I kept Phoebe primarily in the two warmest parts of the house: The bedroom, where he stayed with his dog brother while I had to go out to work; and the bathroom, which he views as his play place.

That’s all for today. Thanks for reading the first diary entry! More about Phoebe tomorrow.