Wilderness Bart and the Microwave of Doom

Even though Bart, our Rainbow Lorikeet parrot, is not potty trained, I occasionally live dangerously and take her for a ride on my shoulder. Yes, Bart is a she, the DNA test was not that accurate or didn't happen at all. We didn't find this out until she laid her first egg and by that time she had learned her name and the ability to say; "Pretty boy".

She is never content with a view from my shoulder and has to get closer to the action any time she can. If I'm doing anything with my hands she has to climb down my shirtsleeve and sit on my hand in order to get "up close and personal".

The other day, she was getting as close as possible to the sandwich I was fixing when I walked across the kitchen to get something out of the silverware drawer. She then started to clamber back up my sleeve but at some point, she must have taken her mind off what she was doing because she suddenly lost her balance and started fluttering her 'clipped' wings in panic. Naturally, she couldn't maintain altitude and went into a steep dive. Seeing the top of the microwave approaching at speed, she must have thanked her lucky stars there was an emergency landing field in sight. Trouble was, it was too slippery. I saw her touch down in the proper 'landing position' but we both realized at the same time there was no traction on the slick top. Looking at me with a confused look on her face I saw her slide across the top of the microwave and disappear over the edge.

There was the sound of frantically beating wings and the crash bang of yet another landing awkwardly made. When I looked behind the microwave Bart was nowhere in sight. I couldn't hear her or see her! All that was there was a small trashcan with a swinging lid. The only thing I could think of was 'she must be in there!' It was at that moment I heard a weak squawk that could only be likened to word "help" as voiced by a confused parrot sitting in the dark at the bottom of a very dark trashcan. I can only imagine her thoughts at the sight of the approaching lid, only to find it wasn't a stable perch at all but the swinging entrance to a 'black hole.'

Now the job became one of rescue! I tried to jostle the trashcan as little as possible as I struggled with the lid, which didn't want to come off. The more I struggled, the louder Bart squawked. I held the trashcan with my feet and tugged at the lid with both hands. Still, it wouldn't come off! All the while, Bart is inside totally confused and screaming her head off.

With both of us starting to panic I finally got the top lifted off, Bart saw the light and tried to fly (which she can't do) out of the trashcan. Amid flying feathers and blue parrot language I reached in and Bart attached herself to my shirt with a vice-like grip.

As I put her back on my shoulder she started muttering as if cussing under her breath. I think I heard her say; "Get the number of that truck!