Six years with Simon in the flock

Simon watched the television pensively for a moment while I walloped a creature on the PlayStation game on a recent evening.

Then the little Quaker Parrot climbed across my lap, jumped on the controller and began hitting and chewing the buttons himself — perhaps trying to finish the game better than I would.

This month marks the sixth anniversary of our lives together.

When I first met Simon, he was living in the small bedroom of a home that was alive with dogs, cats and ferrets. His person loved him, but knew that he needed to be in a place where he was the center of attention rather than an afterthought.

It took a few days after I brought Simon home for him to feel brave enough to climb my pant leg and study me from my knee.

Now I am his play gym.

About a week into his new life, Simon spoke his first words to defend his innocence. He and my cockatiel, Tessa, had gotten into some sort of altercation when my back was turned. Both were sent to their cages for a little time out — or as I like to call it, Solitary.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Simon began screaming, “I’m a good boy! Good boy!”

My close friend Lori Snow met Simon for the first time just a couple years after he joined the flock. She later told me birds freaked her out a bit.

Lori had braced herself in that first meeting for the possibility that Simon might take a taste test.

“I was fully prepared to be at least nipped, or worse case scenario, have my eyes pecked out,” Lori said.

I hear that a lot from people, and I wonder who would sit still long enough for a bird to peck their eyes out.

Lori became Simon’s best friend and my bird sitter. Several years ago when I went on a trip to Europe, she proceeded to teach him several new phrases, including, “What’s happening?,” “Thank you” and “Hey, sexy.”

Now he thanks me every time I feed him and occasionally strokes my ego with the sexy comment.

“That is my crowning accomplishment with Simon: I taught him manners,” she said.

Not that Simon always uses his manners.

In 2006, I moved from Statesville, N.C., to Lynchburg for this job. While the movers dismantled my apartment, Lori took the birds in for a couple days.

They stayed in her extra bedroom so she could keep her cat, Elliot, away, just in case Simon pulled one of his now infamous jailbreaks.

She made careful introductions, and caught a gleam in Simon’s eye as he assessed the big scaredy cat.

Elliot, meanwhile, had ventured beyond the safety of her bedroom to meet the new roommate when Simon decided to say, “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.”

“Elliott’s eyes widened, his fur stood on end and he high-tailed it to my bedroom, scared out of his mind,” she said.

“All that followed him down the hall was the sound of the ‘little green monster’ laughing.”

--Sidener can be reached at (434) 385-5539 or csidener@newsadvance.com.