Birds of a Feather

I sitting here writing this with two pairs of dark, beady eyes watching my every move, and I have to admit that over the last month or so I've become used to it, and even quite like it.

The eyes belong to a gorgeous pair of parakeets that are part of the family - he's Spark, she's Ruby - and the past month has taught me something that I didn't appreciate before, namely that birds really do have personalities.

I'm very much an animal lover, and have owned dogs, cats, and even a dwarf Russian hamster, but in all of these cases their personalities have been up front, so to speak, in their mannerisms, in their voices, and in the fact that, I suppose, they're mammals.

The birds, though, are every bit as individual as their four legged counterparts (which now include a couple of guinea pigs called Jemima and Aston), and fascinate me in the ways that they find to communicate with us.

For example, I'm usually first up and when I come downstairs I'm often greeted with a whistle from the birds, usually followed by one of them (more often than not Spark) then flying to the front of the cage, and hanging on to it with his claws to attract my attention to the fact that they've used all their water and are demanding more!

Also, when we eat I've noticed that regardless of whether Ruby and Spark have been snacking all day, they both make a point of joining in with us, which I'm told by the resident experts is because they consider us part of their flock (or vice versa) and the flock that feeds together, err stays together.

So, what I'm trying to do, I guess, is apologise to the avian world for my lack of faith in their individual personalities. Oh, and just in case they're slightly unforgiving I'm keeping them well away from a certain Hitchcock DVD....