I'd like to tell you about my friend Freddie. I'll tell you about his character, his personality and his abilities, which truly made him a friend worth knowing, although only for a relatively short time.
Freddie stood tall. He could talk like the best of the rest, and was noted for his acute sense of observation and hearing. He took a keen interest in personal appearance, giving close attention to dress sense and grooming. Domestic chores were no stranger to Freddie, and he was extremely useful as a telephone receptionist.
Occasionally he would stray into unfamiliar territory, and was not afraid to get his feet wet.
Freddie was a budgerigar.
It all started with a visit to a friend’s house one summer a few years ago. The outdoor aviary was always of interest to us on account of the playful antics of its occupants.... budgerigars, in the main.
My wife’s attention was drawn to a bedraggled looking green budgie scrabbling around in the bottom of the cage. "What’s wrong with him?", she asked. (Is it that easy to tell the gender of a budgie without much closer examination? I should have realized then that maternal instincts were taking over!)
"His mother doesn’t care for him,” I replied. "She’s pulled out his flight feathers."
She asked what would happen to him and my response was not the one she hoped for. "He’s the runt of the litter. The others pick on him. He’ll probably die."
The determination in her voice was obvious, "No, he won’t! Well take care of him."
And so began what could accurately be described as the “Freddie Period” of our lives.
There followed multiple visits to sites telling us how to care for budgies. And so the big day arrived. Of course, the big question for new parents is. How much freedom should we allow our new arrival? Should we ensure his safety by leaving him in his cage all day? Or let him out at particular times? Or give him freedom of the house, and trust that he would quickly respond to requests to return to his cage?
We decided on the final option and soon learned that getting Freddie back into his cage was not easy, certainly not at first! It soon became apparent, that, minus his flight feathers, Freddie could only "fly" downwards! I would then kneel down, offer an outstretched finger, upon which Freddie would hop, and offer him into the cage. Well, that was the theory, at least!
Would Freddie get into his cage? No! It took the best part of an hour to persuade him into his cage, and that was only after convincing him that the four-sided mirror in the cage was "Freddies birdie"!
As time went on, Freddie got quite attached to his "birdie", and could often be observed, "feeding" it! Speaking of feeding: when we sat down to our main meal, Freddie would join us. He would perch on the side of a plate, and help himself! His favorite vegetable was "peas". What a sight he provided as he set about his meal! A pea would be drawn to the edge of the plate where he would peel it, and then eat the center, in much the same way he would eat his birdseed, leaving the husk! And he was not averse to a small drop of wine!! Can you picture the scene? A glass of Lambrusco with Freddie perched on its edge, taking a sip and chirping, "That’s nice!"
Which brings us conveniently to his talking abilities.
Most parents worry about how long it will be before their baby starts to talk. It was just the same for us. We needn’t have worried. Before long he had become quite a mimic. Soon he was saying "Daddy" and "Mummy". What a relief and joy to concerned parents to hear such words!
As with all babies, Freddie was very inquisitive. Invariably he would ask, "What are you doing?" (Yes, he even used correct grammar!) And when we left the house to go shopping, or whatever, he would offer his goodbyes with a "See you later."
His powers of observation were legendary. During the day, especially around the time "Daddy" was expected home Freddie would position himself in the kitchen window, which gave him a good view of the pathway to our house from the communal car park. On this particular occasion, he was getting himself quite excited, flying back and forth between the kitchen and lounge, where "Mummy" usually sat. "Mummy" got up out of her seat to see what the fuss was about. Seeing "Daddy" walking up the path she said, "Daddy's home”, and resumed her previous perch position.
A few days later during a late afternoon, Freddie began calling out, "Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home!" "Mummy" checked the time, and noticing that it was a touch early dismissed these calls as mere wishful thinking on Freddie’s part. But her curiosity got the better of her. So she decided to check, and was amazed to find that "Daddy" was indeed home. But he hadn’t even got out of the car yet!! It then became his practice, having observed "Daddy’s" arrival in the car park , to perch himself expectantly on the nearest surface to the door through which "Daddy" would come, and fly onto his shoulder, saying, "Hello".
Perching on my shoulder was a regular feature for Freddie. You could count on seeing him in this position, regardless of what I was doing. If sat watching television, he would hop down from my shoulder, and, depending on his mood, he would either try to put the end of the laces on my fancy chunky vest-like T-shirt into the center of the bow, or he would progress on down to my bare feet and talk animatedly to my big toe!
Sometimes I am certain he mistook my toe for a lady friend! Or he would jump up onto the top of my head, and rearrange my hair. You see, he really did have a keen sense of appearance.
You’ll remember that Freddie was no stranger to household chores . On one memorable occasion as I stood at the kitchen sink washing up, he walked down my left arm asking, "What are you doing?" So I told him. "That’s nice", came his immediate reply. What wasn’t so nice for him, though, was the time he lost his footing, and fell into the dirty dishwater! It took a hairdryer, and a period of rest on "Mummy’s" warm bosom, to aid in his recovery. (I think he later repeated the "swim" so as to get into the bosom position again!)
His adventurous streak knew no bounds. But on one celebrated occasion it almost resulted in our losing him. I wasn’t at home when it happened, but as I walked in through the front door I caught the tail end of a telephone conversation between my wife and a young woman who, with her young son, had paid us a visit that very afternoon. Then I got the full story!
Apparently, Freddie, spotting a gap, had flown through the kitchen doorway into the lounge. This would not have ordinarily have been a problem. But today, my wife had opened a lounge window and out Freddie flew! Panic and pandemonium now ruled! "Mummy" ran outside, calling out for Freddie to come in. But all to no avail. Just as she was thinking of giving up after two hours, something green flew across her eye-line. Freddie! Again she started to call him, and he responded with his name and address! As a last resort, "Mummy" took his cage outside in which you’ll remember, was Freddie’s "birdie" and at last he was persuaded to come in. My wife practically fell over herself on her way back into the house; so desperate was she to get him inside safely. That was the end of Freddie’s adventures.
We never really knew the fullness of Freddie’s receptionist skills until one day, when the telephone rang, Freddie who currently perched upon it said, "Who’s that?" My Father-in-law on the other end of the line replied, "I heard that!"
Sadly, we shall never really know how Freddie would have developed. At a relatively young age he had a stroke, and so ended a colorful chapter in our lives. True, we have the memorial stone in the garden, numerous photographs and a tape recording of one of his finest talking moments. You would have liked him, My Friend Freddie.
