Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!
I rolled over in bed and checked the clock. 7 A.M. I was hoping for a few more minutes of sleep. My parakeet, Beak, had other plans.
Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!
I groaned, got out of bed, and found Beak where he was perched by the window. I knew he was just doing his natural mating call. Parakeets are social creatures and I felt bad that Beak was alone. But his chirping had woken me up early every day this week- and I’d had enough.
“Give it a rest, Beak,” I said. “You’re a parakeet and this is Minnesota. There’s no tropical birds around for you to call to.”
Beak kept right on chirping. He was a persistent little guy. It went on for another week. Then one day, as I sat in the living room, I heard something. A sweet little whistle was coming from outside. I followed the noise out front and looked up at the apartment building next door. Perched on the roof was a peach-faced lovebird. She was whistling back at Beak, answering his call.
I called to her with some bird seed in my open palm and she flew right down onto my hand. I carefully walked her into the house and set her down in that living room with Beak. I called the local vet to see if it was safe to keep them together. “Lovebirds can be territorial,” he said. “I don’t think you should have them live together.” I hurried back to check on them. Beak and the lovebird were sitting side by side, nuzzling each other like they’d known each other their whole lives.
I decided to keep the lovebird and call her Heidi. Beak and Heidi have been inseparable ever since. Beak knew she was out there and didn’t stop his chirping until he found her. Turns out we can all find love, even a parakeet in the middle of Minnesota.
