Posted May 10, 2016
My mom came home one day and told dad that we were getting a bird.
We drove a few blocks away and retrieved the bird from an elderly man's apartment. He was a smoker, so the cage was yellow, the bird's beak was nearly brown, and it's feathers were blue and yellow.
It wasn't until after a few cleanings that we discovered that Joe-Joe's feathers were blue and white, not yellow.
Joe-Joe was given a year to live, because of all the smoke he'd inhaled.
Over the three years, we had him, my friend and I took food care of him. While my mom cleaned his cage, we would bring him into the washroom to stretch his wings and take a bath in the tub.
It wasn't until the last year of Joe-Joe's life that we discovered he was a she. We found this out when we were cleaning the cage and found eggs. My brother's friend and I guessed he was a girl because of how light her feathers were. We knew that males had brighter feathers so they could attract females, but no one believed us.
Joe-Joe use to pick through her birdseed, eat the dried fruit, then tossed the seeds at my brother.
She was a very active bird, always playing with bells, chirping at her reflection, and moving around.
She use to bite anyone who handled her, apart from me. I was the hand who fed her, though.
The closest she ever came to talking was when the comedy network was on, and the a comedian said a joke, she'd laugh. It was a high-pitched chirp of a laugh.
We use to cover her cage with a blanket at night so she'd actually go to sleep, because there were times when my dad would fall asleep with the tv on and she wouldn't get any rest.
One day, we took the sheet off the cage and Joe-Joe was laying on the clean newspaper, next to one of her eggs. We buried her and the egg in the back yard in a shoebox.
She was a magical, surprise of a bird.