“A little bitty tear let me down, spoiled my act as a clown, I had it made up not to make a frown, but a little bitty tear let me down.”
That Burl Ives lyric from A Little Bitty Tear, which topped the charts when the Little Lady’s and my kids were small, surged through my mind again and again a few weeks back when Betta, the blue and gold macaw that summered with me, went to a new home.
Ambivalent as it often turns out to be, that’s what I do; I find new homes for birds that can no longer be kept by their owner, and Betta has taken the route to what I believe to be a near perfect situation.
I would be guilty of telling a huge fib if I have implied that a little bitty tear streaked my cheek. It was more than one and more than once that a tear trickled from the corner of my eye. I had to clean my glasses several times that day.
This bird was so much fun and company for me that she inadvertently became a tear jerker when I had to see her go. But what had to be done was done. She is now in a long-term situation that matches her lifestyle and span of 40 or more happy years to live.
Betta will not be caged; she left contentedly to be perched on her multiple-branched pedestal play stand where she can flap her unclipped wings, exercise whenever and however she so wants, and nibble and sip from her shiny stainless steel cups whenever she should so desire. I know she will be happy and bond well with her new owner.
There are more than me who are already missing her, for she would call out “Hello! Hello! Hellooo!” to any and all that drove in our laneway. And she was always the first to say goodbye when someone showed signs of leaving. She would do this while waving one wing, and while clasping the perch with one foot, she would raise the other and flex her toes, obviously waving goodbye as you would do to a small child.
Betta had a complete understanding of most situations, and she would shout “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” whenever I found it necessary to catch any other bird with the net. She could and would change the tone of her voice to that of the person paying attention to her. If it were a woman, she would lean slightly forward and speak in a higher tone. If it were a child, she would lean quite low and pronounce her words slower.
On the other hand, if someone said goodbye to her and did not leave, it irritated her to no end, and more so if that person kept repeating. She would not tolerate those who felt it necessary to tease. On more than one occasion I witnessed this as a neighbour, having consumed several beers, felt that he should irritate her. She would lower her head, forming an attack position, dilate her eyes several times, and utter loudly the unmistakable, stress-releasing four-letter F-word, followed by a second or two pause, with a loud and distinct “off!”
Yet moments later, having made sure the drunk left, in order to calm her, I would ask her to show me how pretty she was. She immediately climbed to her highest perch, stretched both wings greater than five foot width, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in a definite swagger which more often than not kept time to the beat of the music playing on the radio. Her mood change was instant and obviously complete.
It may seem a little peculiar to some why I take the time to find homes for birds that others can no longer keep, but this was suggested to me by my Little Lady years before she passed away. It has, in large numbers proven quite successful.
Often the birds arrive in poor condition, and it would take a little time to get them back into shape. The expenses of which – feed cost and heat for the aviary – are covered by the many donations from readers, as well as the fact that I raise and sell canaries, a lifetime hobby that has paid well over the years. It is what I do, like to do, and do best.
So if you, or someone you know, find yourself so positioned, don’t hesitate to call me. The chances are that the bird you bring me will go back out to one of my readers. I’m in the position of shedding that tear for you, even if it is just a little bitty one.
Take care, cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-986-4105