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Parrots are only recently out of the wild. Essentially,
we have in our hands the interface between the wild and man in
civilization. What we allow ourselves to learn from them could
have far-reaching implications. Sometimes I allow myself to wonder
if they could conceivably have the power, by virtue of their place
with us in space and time and their great beauty and intelligence,
to finally convince man of the need to preserve what is natural
and most precious. They can touch us where we live.
I suppose a warning is only fair. What follows is not an
article that will provide education regarding the specifics of
parrot care. Nor will it leave you feeling inspired and full of
love for your parrot companions. If I achieve my goal, you will
set this article down feeling at the very least thoughtful, and at
the most disturbed and unsettled. For this is an attempt at
exploring our own feelings, thoughts and behavior in our
relationships with our parrots, who are, to use the words of Henry
Beston, "…other nations, caught with ourselves in the net
of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of
the earth."
I often wonder if any readers sit in awe, as I do, of the fact
that our parrots have become present in such large numbers with us
now, at this particular time in history, in this "net of life
and time." It is an event that should inspire wonder and
should, perhaps, unsettle us just a little. For, this is the first
time in hundreds of years that we have been given the gift of
caring for and residing with an undomesticated species to the
extent that there remains little doubt that we will in the end
domesticate them through our breeding and care-giving efforts.
Certainly, we have, in our desire to know and dominate
"the wild," imported undomesticated cats for breeding
purposes, bred hybrid wolves, taken monkeys into our homes as
"pets," kept piranhas in fish tanks, and purchased baby
alligators for our children from pet stores priding themselves on
offering the unusual. However, none of these species has been as
flexible, or as adaptable, or as capable of sustaining our
fascination as the parrots.
Nor have any of these other species spoken to our inner selves
as parrots do. Parrots are the stuff of which fairy tales are
crafted. Magical creatures with delicate feathers, brilliantly
painted with a scope and combination of colors we could heretofore
only imagine, who are capable of both flying through the air, and
speaking to us in our own language. And…who allow us to touch
them and who return our love in full measure. The bottom truth
is…these creatures appeal to the children in us in a way nothing
else has or can.
And therein, my friends, lies the ultimate paradox inherent in
parrot keeping. They appeal to our more childlike selves, while it
is our adult selves who must care for them. This has led to some
problems. Thus, we will be taking a little dip here into becoming
more psychologically visible as parrot caretakers.
When I was four years of age, I stood in my living room, feeling
like I'd just been struck by lightening, stunned with the
realization that my life was in the hands of two crazy people.
That is no understatement. Unable to clear away the cobwebs of
their own childhood, they lived life robotically, hating each
other, drinking themselves into a stupor each night, and abusing
the smaller, vulnerable lives around them. I have often joked that
perhaps I am so good with parrots because I know what it feels
like to have lived as a prey animal.
Having been plunked down into this "sink or swim"
life, my own personality structure led me towards those events,
pieces of knowledge and spiritual understanding that would allow
me to swim. I have not been content to merely "survive,"
but have striven to make sense of my earliest beginnings. I've
never been one to shy away from the truth, which was about the
only beacon available to me in those early years.
Thus, once I had escaped my home of origin, I realized that most
of my thought patterns and the majority of the things I had
learned about relating to people would only bring me ultimate
grief. I set out to shed that old skin and learn more effective
ways of thinking and behaving. During that process of re-educating
myself, I learned more than I had ever wanted to know about
dysfunctional families and their effects on the children reared
therein.
Since approximately 1985, articles and books have begun to
flood the stores as the impact of addiction in our society has
been recognized. The size of the "Self Help" section in
any bookstore now bears testimony to the scope of this problem. In
today's society, the terms "dysfunctional,"
"chemical dependency" and "codependency" have
become quite familiar. Mary Engelbreit mugs sport the slogan,
"Let's Put the Fun Back in Dysfunctional." Codependency
even made the pages of Newsweek magazine in the article
"Alcohol and the Family" published in January of 1988.
Simply put, we are a culture that enables addition.
Further, the truth is that there are many types of
dysfunctional families that are not alcoholic, but which still
inflict plenty of damage on the children growing up therein. As
Earnie Larsen states in his book Old Patterns, New Truths,
"To some degree every family is dysfunctional because perfect
families and perfect people do not exist."
Less-than-nurturing or dysfunctional parenting techniques produce
codependent adults. I have heard it estimated that today about 95%
of all families now rest firmly in the "dysfunctional"
category.
What are the hallmarks of a dysfunctional family? They are
many. However, the primary characteristic is that the family lives
by a set of dysfunctional rules that are taught to the children.
Rules such as…Do not talk about your problems…Do not talk
about your feelings…Do not think or feel anything…Do not
trust…Do not make mistakes…Do not ask questions…Do not be
needy…Do not be selfish…Do not be yourself…Do not rock the
boat…Do not have fun…Do not get too close or intimate.
If the rules we practice are dysfunctional, the relationships we
develop will also be dysfunctional. I have for many years now felt
a growing fascination as I have watched and come to understand how
the patterns of relating that we learn as children come to play
out in our adult human relationships. More recently, I have begun
to see with morbid interest how this plays out in our lives with
our parrots.
Two key areas of a person's life reflect co-dependence: the
relationship with the self and relationships with others. Most
adults over the age of thirty for whom happiness in relationships
has been elusive may have some awareness of how they are affected
in their relationships with other adults. However, the
manifestation of co-dependency in other relationships may not be
as clear. Does co-dependence and its many symptoms impact our
relationships with our children? Yes, of course. Does it impact
our relationships with our domesticated pets…our dogs and cats?
Usually not, unless we are forced to give them up because of our
own instability or we physically abuse or neglect them.
Does it impact our relationships with our parrots?
Absolutely…because by virtue of their intelligence and great
flexibility they are able to participate more sophistically in
relationships with us. There are many commonly recognized traits
of co-dependency, and it is not too difficult to see how they
manifest themselves in our relationships with our parrots.
Many of us growing up in dysfunctional families are covertly
pressed into being a resource for the very people who should be
caring for us. We receive an early and extensive education into
how to care for others, often at our own expense. This becomes
quite gratifying for many of us and often leads us into targeting
employment in the "helping" professions, such as
nursing, teaching, or counseling. However, for some this tendency
becomes a pattern of inappropriate caretaking and rescuing. Those
of us who love parrots may begin to rescue parrots or become
resources to those in need of help with their parrots.
However, there are times when this very altruistic desire
backfires, unless we also have the sense of balance in our lives
to know when our resources match the demands of those rescued, and
when taking in more or helping further is not advisable. Frequent
are the stories now of individuals found with large numbers of
parrots who have "hit bottom" in terms of their ability
to care for so many. The large number of rescue organizations
cropping up at this time is a reflection both of our intense
desire to help and the need that exists. However, anyone seeking
to place their parrot with a rescue organization should look long
and hard at such an organization's ability to sustain itself and
provide for the needs of the parrots it is taking in. A strong
governing board will be able to balance the over-enthusiasm of any
one individual and prevent the organization from over-extending
itself.
Most children who grow up in dysfunctional families never get
the love they need and become adults constantly seeking
relationships that will make them feel loved. Often, disappointed
by people, they will seek that same feeling…with a cockatoo. So
intense is our desire to have that feeling of closeness that a
young affectionate cockatoo can provide that we look no further
than the initial experience…only to be disillusioned completely
when that same bird becomes a problem later. Certainly, cockatoos
can be difficult companions, but I believe their large and
disproportionate population in rescue organizations and
sanctuaries also reflects the number who have been discarded
because they were not able to sustain that early ability to make
their owners feel loved.
Children in dysfunctional families become the family's
"identified problem." When adults are unhappy with each
other, but unwilling to examine that reality too closely, it
becomes quite easy to focus on one particular child's faults and
problems. If we have no children, or they have already grown and
gone, our parrots instead may become the identified problem. Any
consultant is familiar with the experience of listening to the
rantings of a new client about how the bird "had better shape
up or ship out." Focusing on their parrot's misbehavior with
a sense of outrage relieves them of the need to examine their own
part in the development of the problem.
Those of us who develop within families wherein either covert
or overt abuse is practiced must learn to numb our own feelings.
The pain of suffering abuse is too much for us to experience and
we grow distanced from our own feelings, out of necessity. I often
encounter individuals who disregard their parrot's feelings of
fear or insecurity. As we were once told ourselves to "get
over it," we do not take seriously enough our parrot's
anxieties over the experiences it encounters in captivity. We
remain oblivious to the distress caused to our parrot by
re-modeling activities, the presence of hawks preying on the small
birds at our bird feeders…or having it's beak split in two. As
we do not even notice our own distress over current events,
neither do we notice our parrots'. And, we have no understanding
that it is our job to provide reassurance about, rather than
protection from, life.
Further, those of us who did suffer abuse usually come to
believe on some level that our poor treatment was something we
deserved and had caused to happen. We learn to take things very
personally, and develop into adults who often feel victimized. We
develop relationships with other adults wherein the unspoken
agreement is, "If I be nice to you, you will be nice to
me." If our partner doesn't keep the unspoken pact, we feel
victimized and take it very personally, unable to see that the
behavior might not even have anything really to do with us, but
manifests only from the other person's inability to relate on a
healthy level. And then we buy baby parrots and transfer this same
silent set of expectations to our relationships with them. We
forget that they are wild creatures, and when they bite us for the
first time, we are devastated. We take it very personally. When
they scream for long periods, we feel victimized. It drives us to
tears in our unconscious assumption that they too are trying to
"get to us."
As we have distanced ourselves from our own feelings, those of
our children and others around us, we have also strayed away
significantly from the knowledge that it is our responsibility to
instruct and guide our young children. We are quick to get them
into preschool, and even before that, the need for many mothers to
work necessitates that their babies are cared for daily by hired
caretakers. As we accept this fairly recent change in parenting,
we begin to see it as "normal," and grow less worried
about it's possible ramifications for the future personalities of
our children. Mothers who breast-feed and/or stay at home to care
for very young children have become an anomaly.
Accordingly, this also has had an impact on our parrot-keeping
practices, in that we do not automatically see our responsibility
to guide and teach our young parrots. We hang on the statement
"he is weaned" as if it meant "he is
finished…adult." It does not occur to us that this
long-lived creature is dependent upon us to set boundaries,
instruct him in acceptable ways to behave. Nor do we look for ways
to allow him to develop his talents, such as flying, climbing
stairs, or doing tricks.
As co-dependent adults, we are often addicted to outside issues
in order to medicate our feelings and find acceptance and a sense
of self. In Robert Subby's (Healing the Family Within, 1990)
words, "This results in a pseudo-identity that says, 'I am
who I know, who I marry, what degree I hold, what type of work I
do"…or what type of parrot I own. I believe it no
coincidence that a huge number of large macaws are purchased by
young men between the ages of twenty and thirty.
Some who grow up in dysfunctional families learn violence as a way
of dealing with problems, and have difficulty with impulse
control. I recently counseled a young man who had thrown his large
macaw against a wall because it bit him. Sadly, this was not an
isolated instance.
Most who receive their earliest lessons in dysfunctional families
have difficulty with conflict. We seek approval and are reluctant
to ever rock the boat or do anything to make ourselves unpopular
with anyone. Later, we may turn a blind eye when someone we know
abuses parrots, does not care for them correctly, or when we
encounter a pet store with inhumane practices. We are rendered
ineffective in addressing such issues by our own fear of
repercussions. We may hint to our friend that we are worried about
her birds, but taking a strong stand is difficult. Breeders are
afraid to say, "No, I won't sell a parrot to you."
Frequently, children in dysfunctional families live with the
fear that someone will discover "the truth" about
them…that they are defective. Later, as adults we become
judgmental toward others in a defensive posture. Many individuals
who are in positions of educating or giving advice to other parrot
owners, having grown itchy with the pain they encounter, use
judgment as a way of dealing with the parrot owners with whom they
must work and who are having serious difficulties of their own
devising. However, we must decide whether we want to be
"right" or effective. Placing judgment upon others feels
very satisfying, because we know we are "right…eous."
However, when we do so, we are not very effective. Very few of us
wake up one day when very young and say to ourselves, "I
think I'll grow up into a real jerk and abuse small animals and
birds." Most people have good intentions, and if treated with
compassion and provided with education, will want to do a better
job with their birds.
As adults, we may have trouble saying "no" and
setting boundaries. Our cockatoo is allowed the run of the house,
and the fact that he bites the feet and ankles of visitors is
tolerated. An African Grey is allowed to stay on his playstand
while the owner is at work because he "doesn't want to"
go into his cage. Eight years later, he begins to eat the flooring
and cupboards having become sexually mature and driven to explore
and chew. Accustoming him to a cage again will take six months.
Co-dependent adults have difficulty postponing gratification
and this plays out in several ways with our parrots. Most parrots
are purchased from pet stores on the spur of the moment, or at
least shortly thereafter. Many are the clients who want their
parrot problems solved immediately, or they will give the parrot
up. These people are often the same ones who allowed the problem
to go on too long, due to the fact that they also have difficulty
in asking for help. I often advise clients that, if the problem
developed over five years time, they might at least give the
parrot five years to learn other ways of behaving…a concept they
clearly have difficulty digesting.
We often have difficulty forming and maintaining close
relationships, so uncomfortable are those feelings of real
intimacy and the need to be "present." Any number of
African Grey owners have trouble with their birds because they are
unable to settle down and really get in tune with their birds.
They talk at them and objectify them, often receiving those
oh-so-common bites that say, "Wake up, and really see
me." They focus on doing for them, rather than being with
them. They run from home to job and back again, thinking circular
thoughts like a hamster on a wheel, never slowing down enough to
really make psychic and emotional contact with their Grey.
We are fearful of maintaining commitments. Unhappy human
relationships these days are simply dissolved without a second
thought, as the economic need to remain married has evaporated
with the increase of women in the work force. Many times, this is
appropriate because most often people do not change, unless they
recognize the need to do so and formulate a desire to do so in
order to better their relationships. Too many of us give our
parrots up too easily, for any number of reasons. We have no way
to understand that sometimes, simply hanging in there is the right
answer because parrots do evolve and change for the better
(especially with guidance from us), as humans often do not.
Children who grow up in dysfunctional homes must stay safe by
learning to anticipate the needs of others and by doing whatever
it takes to make those others happy and content. As adults, we
become overly concerned about what our parrot "likes."
If he doesn't eat his breakfast, we make him another. If he
screams, we immediately run to him to receive information about
what we must do…to see what he wants.
Lastly, there are individuals so badly damaged by their growing up
experiences that they become disabled in terms of caring for
themselves or others. These are the stories we hear all too often
that make us turn our thoughts quickly away to softer subjects.
I could go on…but we have probably both had enough.
Animals have always paid a price for their proximity to humans. As
Barbara Kingsolver wrote in her novel The Poisonwood Bible, "On
the day of the hunt I came to know in the slick center of my bones
this one thing: all animals kill to survive, and we are animals.
The lion kills the baboon; the baboon kills fat grasshoppers. The
elephant tears up living trees, dragging their precious roots from
the dirt they love. The hungry antelope's shadow passes over the
startled grass. And we, even if we had no meat or grass to gnaw,
still boil our water to kill the invisible creatures that would
like to kill us first. And swallow quinine pills. The death of
something living is the price of our own survival, and we pay it
again and again. We have no choice. It is the one solemn promise
every life on earth is born and bound to keep."
Animals will always pay a price for living amongst us. It is up
to us to determine, each day, on the most personal level how great
that price will be.
I wrote the paragraph in Italics above several years ago. In
retrospect, there is a naiveté about the sentiment expressed and
the question posed. It ignores the fundamental truth that we do to
others what we do to ourselves. I have come now to understand that
our ultimate success with our birds, both on a personal and a
global level, in both the practical and the spiritual sense, will
depend upon the extent to which we pursue our own healing and find
our own centeredness. We do have before us a new millennium and a
choice to live more consciously, more humbly, more
compassionately, and more honestly. |
