The End of the Beginning

Wow, so long since my last blog post. I had such high hopes,  for me and the blog. Actually, I had superwoman syndrome. What was I thinking? I had joined a rescue, taken on more responsibility, had parents with serious health issues that required travel to Tampa for almost a year, a traveling husband and tutoring commitments. Hmmmm, why don't I try to start a blog that I contribute to as often as possible. Ouch! Not a fun way to learn that you aren't "all that"! I really did think that I could do it all.

Now that I have very publicly demonstrated that I can't do it all, I am going to try and start blogging

again. The only difference being that I am going to have more realistic expectations of myself this time around. There is a phase in the life of parrot ownership that we call the honeymoon phase. This phrase is usually reserved for re-homed birds because it refers to the tendency of birds (or anyone for that matter) to behave more appropriately in the beginning of a new relationship. I think that I have been suffering from honeymoon syndrome in the rescue arena. I assumed that everyone was into rescue for the "right" reasons, that all birds could be rehabilitated, that every story had a happy ending and the sun pretty much was going to shine all the time. HUGE ASSUMPTIONS! I was wrong. I was so very wrong.

First, I had to learn that everyone defines "right" reasons differently. Sometimes those definitions are a world apart. This is an observation I make not to mean that I have figured out what those "right" reasons are but that I had no idea how very differently rescuers could view the reasons for being involved in Parrot Rescue. I offended people and had no idea I had done so!! I broke unspoken rules by accepting money and cages from a small breeder. In my mind, I thought there was no wrong way to accept money for the birds under my care. I had huge vet bills (still do, lol) and was making sure that all fosters had food and toys  - how could that be bad? Trust me, there are individuals who not only think it's bad, they will stop talking to you. I was shocked at the absolute venom and aggression shown on different Facebook pages between rescue groups and parrot owners. Yikes! I thought high school was tough for gossip and character assassination. There are Queen bees and Wannabes that have nothing compared with what goes on in the protected shell of Facebook anonymity and trolling.  My personal faith leads me to believe that no change can be lasting without those in agreement (at the most broad level) committing to change and refusing to be drawn into skirmishes that weaken the team's overall ability to stay in the war.  Change for the plight of unwanted, abandoned, or, through no fault of their own, homeless birds. That is my mantra. I can't fix the entire dysfunctional system of over breeding, lack of education, lack of responsible adults and greedy people. I can't change moral compasses (nor would I want to tell others how they should feel). I can take the birds that come to me through chance and referral and do the very best I can for them to be healthy and whole. I can publicize their stories and find them homes that I hope will last for a very long time. I can coordinate and work with other rescues when I can't provide what a bird needs. I can put the word out and educate the public to the best of my ability about what parrot ownership really looks like. I can never, ever give up. That is what I can do and what I plan to do.

Okay, I have now broken the unspoken rules of blogging because this post is too long, has some personal and negative observations and I didn't mention one of the birds in the rescues personal story. I promise to better next time but I thought it was important to tell you why I had been absent and what I have been learning. Oh, and the title of this post isn't an admission of failure - it is a declaration of my intention to be in this for the long haul. Past the honeymoon and the 7 year itch, I plan to continue to walk my path. One step at a time, working for the greater good of the feathered creatures that I love.

P.S. Kovak says, "hi!". Yes, he wasn't supposed to live and here he is over a year later eating banana with me while I type.

He is even moving his head all over the place.