Parakeet doesn't care for late night conversation

It was a rare weekend.

I had a Friday off and no plans for the weekend. So instead of doing something productive, like organizing items for the following weekend’s yard sale, I decided to spend most of my time in Simon’s room crafting and playing with my feathered friend.

On Friday — when I removed the padlocks that keep my too-smart-for-his-own-good boy in his cage when there is no one around to supervise him — he flew from its confines.

A few laps around the upstairs later, he settled on the back of my chair and regarded my housemate Cortney before he took off again.

He flew into the bathroom.

He did a fly-by of Cortney’s four birds.

He made a lap or two in my bedroom.

He dangled almost upside down from the framed poster above the stairwell.

Cortney, who also had the day off, remarked about how hyper my little boy was.

He seemed to know this was an unusual day, having his human flock home at the same time and both hanging out in his room.

As the hours passed, Simon settled down. Instead of hang out in his cage when he wanted to take a nap, he hung on the back of my chair and rubbed his beak together contentedly.

“He looks tired,” Cortney said.

“He’ll go to his room when he’s ready,” I replied, enjoying the slight scuffing sound of his beak so close to my ear.

When I was ready for bed, I picked him up and put him on his favorite perch. Simon went without protest.

The next day, I followed the same routine, but it was only me.

Simon flew from his cage and did a couple laps, but settled quickly on the back of my chair. He rocked from foot to foot like he was ready to bury his little face in the feathers on his back.

Finally, as the day wore on, Simon couldn’t take it any more. He fluttered the short distance to his cage and settled on favorite perch.

With one foot tucked in to the feathers on his belly like a great flamingo, he buried his face in his feathers and fell asleep. When I got up, he woke; startled as though he forgot I had set up camp in his room.

Later that night, as Cortney and I prepared for bed, we stopped to talk to each other outside Simon’s room.

He never cares for this little habit we’ve developed. Most of the time, he ignores us until the conversation goes on a little too long. Then, he mumbles like a grumpy old man.

I can almost imagine him say something like, “You silly women. Don’t you know it’s bed time? Don’t you know the sun set hours ago?”

But on this particular night, Simon decided that mumbling at us wasn’t enough to get his point across.

Simon grew louder and louder, in an attempt to overpower our conversation.

I sigh.

“OK, OK, we are heading to bed,” I told him.

And we did. I heard Simon’s grumpy old man mumble as I closed the bedroom door.