It's confession time.
Much as I would like you all to feel as smug about the releases as I did when I wrote my last blog, I can't keep up the pretence any longer.
We had a call the other day from a neighbour a mile or so down the road who was merrily hand-feeding Chac & Chell bread, thank you very much. When I got there, the two offenders were perched on their (thankfully cold) barbeque and their two mad white-fronted friends were bouncing around on the washing-line. It was hard to know who to grab first, so I made a right pigs-ear of it and they all ended up in the surrounding cohune trees. I waited until dusk but they showed no signs of coming home. Having 2 hours to reflect, perched on the tailgate of the truck, I spotted a flaw in the recent 'no interacting with the birds' policy that we have adopted. Basically they aren't the least bit interested in anything I've got to say: they've never heard me talk to them and I'm clearly a very boring human. And they certainly aren't going to follow me home to life in a cage with pumpkin and celery when they have a crop full of yummy tortillas and a ton of trees to play in.
The next morning came and the little beggars (literally) had moved to the next family. And then the next. Until horror of horrors they were flying around the village shouting 'catch me if you can'. Well, guess what?
I am not going to enter into the embarrassing details of their return. Suffice to say enough people wagged their finger at me and called me stupid for letting them out, that makes me never want to go back there again. I am once again desperately grateful for the leg bands, without them they would be just another bird, instead of crazy gringo-lady’s bird.
Apparently the two white-fronteds "flew back-so, Miss" and were not "rescued" / "helped" / "looked after" in the way that Chac & Chell were. Unfortunately, so far only one of them has found their way back to the aviary. Let's hope he's just lost, or has met some girl in a bar or something...
Chac & Chell are back behind bars on half-rations until I can work out what to do with them. That was their second chance. They've done exactly this before, which is why we were given them in the first place. At least this time they didn't come back with a crew-cut. So, do I let them go for three strikes on a local release, or shall I drive them way out into the bush as far from people as possible and then pretend they'll be okay? There's no wonder rehabbers don't give them names: it's much easier to say "sorry old chap, GOBFD018 didn't make it" than to wring your hands and wail about the absence of poor Esmeralda.
On a positive note, we have 9 merry birds winging their way around the place: a happy, comfortable flock of Amazon parrots… and one parakeet.
Oh come on - nobody's perfect.
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