Leland

Chris and I just got back from a wonderful trip to Denali National Park, but I can't write about that right now. This morning, our bird-sitter called to let us know that our beloved Leland died yesterday. We feel lucky to have shared ten years with Leland -- he was a wonderful little bird, alternately sweet (to Chris and me) and fiesty (to everyone else he's ever met), and always funny.

As I've told anyone who's asked whether he could talk, he could make five kinds of kissy noises, squeak like the door, and laugh in a gravelly little bird voice. He would only laugh at funny things, too. Not sure how he knew the difference. He loved to ring bells, fight with bells, sit with his head under bells, drop bells off the side of his cage, and make the sound a bell clapper makes when he chews on it. He would generally make this sound while he was chewing on the clapper of a bell. He used to sit on my knee while I was knitting, imitating the clicking of the knitting needles. He was a much faster knitter than I was.

I loved giving him scratches before birdie bedtime. I loved watching him take a bath in the sink, splashing with his little wings and having fun. I loved just hanging out with him, talking to him while I worked.

I'll miss you, Leland.



Chris's Favorite Leland Story
It was always fun to try to coax Leland across the floor of a room, with his "walk" that was neither steps nor hops nor scuttle. However, any run of longer than a few feet would always be interrupted by side trips, where Leland would spot a bit of food, seed husk or fuzz on the floor that he'd want to pick up and taste. There were almost always enough side trips to ensure he'd never make the destination we intended, no matter appealing we made it (scratches, favorite foods, toys).

However, one night in Pasadena I got home from four days away at a conference. Leland was playing on the floor with Kirsten, and spotted me from across the room. I took a couple steps into the room and set down my rollaboard. I see Leland running around excitedly. Not randomly, or distractedly, but with a destination in mind. On this one occasion, Leland ran 25 uninterrupted feet--and around the couch--to my feet, and bit my shoe to indicate his displeasure with my absence (or, how happy he was to see me).

Leland never did that again, but at that time we'd only had him for a couple years, and he was still "Kirsten's bird" in my mind. That was the beginning of his campaign to convert me to a "bird person"...he considered me a member of his flock, and that was important to him. In the following years, I grew to see what a neat pet he was, and how well he suited me, and we developed a strong bond. I'm deeply saddened he won't have the opportunity to do the same for Soren (though they would undoubtedly have a rocky realtionship of tail pulling and biting for a while). He is missed. CMA