Hello! My name is Humphrey and I am a Princess of Wales Parakeet or Princess Parrot, depending on who you ask. I prefer to be called a Princess parrot, because in America when people talk about parakeets they actually mean "budgies". And I'm NOT a budgie. I'm much more attractive. I have a variety of green body feathers, a pink neck everyone is always going on about, and a superlong multicoloured tail. I used to have another name but I don't remember what it was. Anyway, Humphrey is a very dignified name for a parrot, in my opinion.
I am about 2 years old. I don't know much about my early life. Would you, if your parents hadn't filled you in? The earliest memory I have is being in the pet store in Lewisham. I was in a glass tank with this Quaker parrot who I hated. He was such a bully. One day, this lady with blonde curly hair came in. She spent ages talking to me and looking at me, telling me how beautiful I am. She was crying for some reason. I had a feeling I'd see her again.
The next day, she came back. The next thing I know I was in a small box, in a car. I knew I was with her because by that time I knew her voice. She was promising she'd give me the best life she could. It sounded nice and all, but I wa s terrified!
She brought me to a house and put me in a brand new cage. I was shaking. I didn't know what was going on! In fact, for the first few days I hid behind the toy she gave me. I know she could still see me, but I felt a bit better. Soon I met the man she lives with. He has long curly hair like her. He seemed to be very impressed with my beauty - no surprise there.
That was a year ago. I now know I live with Michele and Martin. They are my family. I like them a lot. They give me lots of seeds (even tho I have to eat those terrible pellets and fruit and veg which I do like); I have my own huge box of toys, and best of all, they never close me in the cage. I'm allowed to come and go as I please. They get very happy when I fly over and land on them. They want to touch me but I get freaked out when a human tries to touch me. I am going to try to get over that, but I can't promise anything. I like my family, but to be honest I don't trust them 100 percent. See, a couple of months ago they took me to this place they called "The Vet". There was this man and woman in white coats. They grabbed me in a towel and I squawked and bit. I'm very proud that I got a couple of good bites in. Then they trimmed my wings. I don't mind that - they've already grown back (my wings looked ridiculous and lopsided for a while though).But I DO NOT like being in a towel. I still think sometimes Michele and Martin will grab me and take me to the vet or put me in a towel. So I have to keep my guard up. Don't get me wrong - I like most of my life. Sometimes, Michele and Martin take me for a ride in the car, and take me to the most beautiful garden and let me sit in the sun. I have to stay in my cage, locked, when I do that. But it's ok. I love the warm breeze ruffling my feathers.
I hope you enjoy reading my blog. Mind you, it takes me a while to type because I don't have hands.
