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A Song for Putri Several years ago, my close friend and ‘bird mentor’ Emily came across this beautiful young Citron-crested cockatoo in a pet store near Seattle. She had been living there, And the owner would reach into cage roughly to grab her in order to show to any possible buyers. But after two years, no one had bought her. So Em took her home, and after both of us declared that we would love to have her in our respective Flocks, I got to take her home and live my band of feathered hooligans. She was named “Putri Cantik”, Indonesian for Beautiful Princess
Putri was not a great bird for talking or doing tricks, but then, none of these things is why I love parrots. It is the behavior, the sentience, the intelligence, and their affectionate nature. However, Putri did say “Hi, Baby” with great frequency, and she would do a great imitation of a bobble-head cockatoo doll. Putri often yelled mightily when she wanted either food or attention, which she usually got. She was good at manipulating me and was an extremely smart, in ways hard to put down on paper. She flew around the house with great precision. She loved her showers, flapping with great abandon (see second photo,below). But her favorite was to fly to my shoulder and then down to my chest, where she would lie against whatever shirt I was wearing, just to be held or perhaps to feel my warmth or my heartbeat—something that became even more significant later.
Nor did a trial of high-dose leuprolide (Lupron) reduce either her unmistakably-hormonal behavior (or) her Feather Destructive Behavior (FDB). [In fact, neither I nor my friends have ever seen ANY change either in hormonal behavior or in FDB with high-dose leuprolide treatment]. We thought that a change of environment might help, especially to be with a birdie buddy—Emily’s Citron-crested cockatoo. Indeed, the two seemed to be getting along fine and we were overjoyed that the two would become best friends. But later, Putri started mutilating herself under her “wing pit” (remember that her FDB began at MY house, not my friend’s). She bled significantly but managed to chew her way out of several types of protective collars. The ONLY thing that would calm her down was to be held to the chest of my friends or me. She was sutured after laser treatment to help obtain a sterile field and debride the wound . After this relatively benign procedure, and after anesthesia wore out, Putri’s heart stopped beating. Parrot lovers know that they can never say or write what the loss of a beloved parrot means to them. Nor can I. But an anonymous poet came close: "Some say they don't believe that angels can be seen or heard. There is an irony in this. Our work to help conserve Salmon-crested (Seram) cockatoos in the wild, was greatly fostered by the death of my beloved Salmon-crested cockatoo, China. And. As if by fate, we [The Indonesian Parrot Project) had just recently turned our attention to Lesser Sulphur (Yellow)-crested cockatoos , including the Citron-crest, in the wild. Is there a lesson from all this? Yes, if we choose to “see” it. These birds were never meant to be in cages, but rather flying free, as I was fortunate enough to witness in the wild on Sumba Island, Indonesia—their sole remaining home. We, “the most intelligent specie on earth” have seen fit, in our desire to own and display, have decimated them in their forest homes and stuck them in cages for our pleasure. Enough is enough. But Putri Cantik was much more than a lesson. She was joy, and joie de vivre, incarnate. That which created me has called me to duty in other lands upon other worlds Goodbye, Poot-Poot, we will miss you so much. Stewart Metz Follow Indonesian Parrot Project |
After a period of mistrust, we became great “buddies” and she received the usual host of diminutive names that birds have to tolerate—including “Pooter”, Tootin’ Pootin, and “Poot-Poot.” Putri was not sexually mature when we got her, but soon became so. She bonded to me extremely tightly and the combination of the two was the first of many mistakes, by my not discouraging sufficiently the behavior derived from her hormonal maturation. Despite her bonding to me, she loved everybody, especially Emily and my other good friend and “bird mentor” Stephanie.
But then one day, we noticed that she was plucking out feathers, which progressed at an alarming rate. A “complete” check up with her vet revealed nothing helpful.
