My parents live on beautiful Lake Conway in Orlando, Florida.

At the time of this story they had no pets of their own. They liked to travel and didn't want the worry of where to put a pet while they were gone.

However, my Dad has pets of a sort. He keeps a variety of fish food in the boathouse and, every afternoon, treats the lake fish to a daily snack. He has floating food for the top feeding fish and a sinking type for the bottom feeders. He enjoys watching them strike out and eat their afternoon snack. Sometimes the fish chase each other around or push the others out of the way. It is calm and relaxing sitting on the dock, watching the birds fly by, the ducks swim around, and the occasional otter playing nearby. The fishermen and water skiers on the lake also add to the scene.

One afternoon, he was at the dock throwing the fish food into the lake when he heard a strange noise on top of the boathouse. It was not unusual to have sea gulls inland, or to have a crane or water bird come by for a visit, but he looked up and saw a bright yellow bird looking down at him and "telling" him in no uncertain terms that, he too, wanted to be fed.

My Dad threw some fish food on the dock and the little yellow bird gladly accepted his offering by flying down and eagerly munching some of that food. My Dad thought the bird looked a little out of place in the wild, so after a few moments he proceeded to scoop the little bird up and take him to the house.

As luck would have it, I was at their house talking with my mother when Dad came up from the lake with something squawking and chattering in his hands. Curiosity and intrigue set in. What had he brought up from the dock?

It was a cockatiel!

Mom found a shoe box to put it in. The little bird settled down some when not held so closely. I volunteered to take it home. At my house, my two young girls were equally interested in what I had in the box that was making noise. I found an aquarium for our new little friend to stay in for the night. The little bird accepted his new surroundings and started some whistling while it looked at us through the glass with equal curiosity. The next day I found a bird cage and a book about cockatiels.

He was a male as he was brightly colored. One daughter decided we would call him Brian, the Bird-Brain. As the days went by we learned that Brian was an exceptional bird. He was tamed back down from his days in the wild. He would allow us to pet him, hop on our fingers, ride on our shoulders and nibble at our ears. He was very vocal. He talked and chattered and had a few whistles in his repertoire. He could whistle "Dixie", "charge", and the "wolf" whistle as well. I am a horse lover so I tried teaching him the "call to the post".

He lived with us for a few years and always let us know his presence in our household. If we forgot to cover him for the night, he would wake us early. Any activity going on around the house would excite him to joining in.

We never found his previous owner to know if he was simply let free or had escaped his confinement. We will always remember that he was found on the dock, demanding to be fed along with the fish.

Copyright © Sylvia Warren
April 4, 2001