cockatiel Archives - 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young

Heaven’s Creatures!

Gaynor Young — Fri, 16 May 2014 04:29:54 +0000

For eight years, Pandora was the love of my life.
Pandora, the yellow, rosy cheeked cockatiel, lived with me in Durban. ‘Oh yes, Gaynor’s bird,’ you are thinking. Yes, she was a bird but she was far more than that. She was my companion. She shared my life, living the ups and downs with me. I loved her and she was equally just as demented about me!
One morning, I woke up and made myself some coffee. Pandora slept in a cage on a chair next to my bed. “Morning, Angel,” I said as I whisked her cover off. She was already awake and had got off her perch and was sitting on the ground as near to me as possible. I climbed back into bed and drew out something which always sent Pandora into a spin of delighted anticipation – Biltong! She was as mad about the stuff as I am. I had never heard of cockatiels eating meat. I had thought that they were herbivores with a diet made up of seeds and nuts. Pandora proved to be of the Vulture variety of cockatiel. Loved meat, bacon, chicken, sausage and was totally hooked on biltong!
“Look what I’ve got,” I said bringing out the biltong packet. She knew that sound and would normally start racing up and down her cage in high hopes and expectancy. Only that morning was different. She remained seated on the floor in her corner, her eyes watching me steadily.
“Hey!” I said “Look, biltong!” I waved a stick under her beak. No reaction. Well, blow me down! I opened up Pandora’s cage and placed the ramp down leading onto the bed. Pandora adored my bed. Normally scouted around, pecking at the quilt before finally returning to me. Then she climbed up my PJs and nestled into my neck. That morning Pandora didn’t budge. Not normal! Not normal at all. I reached into the cage and drew her out. “Angel-Face?” I said softly, putting her against my chest. That was when I noticed that her legs didn’t seem to be working. Fuh-lip! Instantly I was out of bed, Pandora clasped in my hands. “What is it, Pandora?” How I wished that she could speak. “Oh, glory”, I muttered as I placed Pandora in a comfortable position among my bedcovers and dressed quickly. “It’s alright, Angel. I will get you to the vet and she’ll sort you out.”
Ten minutes later, I left with Pandora cradled in my hands. It is about a kilometre away and I spoke to Pandora the whole time. People gave me the oddest looks. I must have appeared a sight. A woman talking to this bird in her hands while tears streamed down her cheeks. We arrived at about 8.20 and naturally there was no one there yet. “We will just sit here and wait.” Pandora closed her eyes. “Don’t die, Angel, don’t die!” I whispered fiercely.
On the dot at 8.30 the vet opened the door. I held out my hands and said: “My bird…she…she’s not well.”
The vet gently took Pandora from me. “I’m afraid she’s dead,” she said.
“No… no… she has just closed her eyes. Hasn’t she?” I pleaded.
She placed a stethoscope to Pandora’s chest and shook her head. “No, she’s gone.”
Gently she wrapped Pandora in a paper towel and handed her to me. I then walked the kilometre home, Pandora in my hands, sobbing unbearably.
Gone was the little bird who had laid an egg on my stomach. Gone was the bird who heard me mounting the stairs and squawked out her welcome. Gone was the bird who sat on the wash basket while I had my bath and lapped up all the water that came her way. Gone was the bird who loved biltong. Pandora was not a pet. She was a bird that believed herself to be human. Pandora was my close friend.
I buried her in the garden. I felt as if my heart would break.
Later I discovered that biltong is a death trap to birds. It clogs up their throats. Much as she adored it, biltong was the worst possible thing for her to eat. In actual fact, I had murdered Pandora!
Today I share my flat with Perdita, a Wire-Haired Dachshund, and Spencer, a cockatiel who continually launches into Bridge Over The River Kwai to get attention! These are my “children”. But Perdita is already nine years old. And Spencer is eight. Perish the thought, but these “children” of mine will die in the not to distant future. I attended a bible study in Durban where one of the women said to me quite bluntly: “Oh no, your pets don’t end up in Heaven with you!” A peal of laughter. “No, Gaynor, I’m afraid it’s just we humans in Heaven.”
Of all the egotistical things to say! I believe that she is wrong. There are definitely horses and angels together in the Bible. (Revelation 6) If there are horses in Heaven, there are other creatures! I know when I look into my “children’s” eyes that they know God intimately. I guess what I am saying, is that animals do have souls. So yes, I believe that I will re-connect with all the animals that I have loved and lost. They have simply gone on ahead of me. We will see each other again.
Later.

I smiled at this poem written by Rudyard Kipling after the death of his dog.

A Dog for Jesus
(Where dogs go when they die)

I wish someone had given Jesus a dog.
As loyal and loving as mine.
To sleep by His manger and gaze in His eyes
And adore Him for being divine.

As our Lord grew to manhood His faithful dog,
Would have followed Him all through the day.
While He preached to the crowds and made the sick well
And knelt in the garden to pray.
It is sad to remember that Christ went away.
To face death alone and apart.
With no tender dog following close behind,
To comfort its Master’s Heart.
And when Jesus rose on that Easter morn,
How happy He would have been,
As His dog kissed His hand and barked it’s delight,
For The One who died for all men.

Well, the Lord has a dog now, I just sent Him mine,
The old pal so dear to me.
And I smile through my tears on this first day alone,
Knowing they’re in eternity.
Day after day, the whole day through,
Wherever my road inclined,
Four feet said, “Wait, I’m coming with you!”
And trotted along behind.

The post Heaven’s Creatures! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

Gotcha!

Gaynor Young — Sat, 14 Dec 2013 03:42:41 +0000

My ‘Gaynor Rising’ posters with two loyal fans, my nephew and niece!

My mind is full of Madiba. I have been watching TV and he is everywhere. And yet he is gone. In Heaven, our Lord will be saying: “Hey there, good and faithful servant…” I could and should write about him. But there are people better qualified to do that. So in order to turn my mind to other things, I read through my journal. And I thought: “Yes, that is what I will tell them about this week – My time performing Gaynor Rising at the Baxter Theatre. This was pre-Cochlear Implant, time.

Pandora, my cockatiel and I left for Cape Town. Some people travel with their spouses or partners. I travel with my bird! I was to be performing at The Baxter Theatre for two weeks. I was looking forward to it but was also poop scared. The last time I had performed at The Baxter was before my accident. When I was an actress. A damn good one! That was over. I now performed as Gaynor Young telling her “story”. Would people find it interesting? Would it hold their attention? Maralin Vanrenen, my director, had no doubts whatsoever. I must do what I always do…have faith in Maralin!

I stood at the top of The Baxter’s staircase and looked down into the foyer. I had performed here in quite a few productions before my accident. Oh,yes, I remembered this place. There was the bar where I had spent many an evening after my shows. There was the door leading backstage. There was one leading to the dressing rooms. I remembered this place so well.

My friend Jan!

I was to be performing in The Studio. It seats about 110 people. Perfect! I was downstairs reading about the various productions on at the theatre when I became aware that I was being watched. I turned to be met by the smiling face of an old friend, Janet Suzman. I hadn’t seen her for about 8 years. We had been e-mailing each other regularly but there is nothing better than being able to put your arms around the actual person and give them the warmest of hugs. Janet was directing Hamlet for The Baxter. I would be opening on the 28th at which stage Jan would be Hamlet-ing in Grahamstown. She got back and then had a couple of days free and then Hamlet opened in the main Baxter Theatre. She would do her utmost to see my show when she returned from Grahamstown.

M and I began rehearsing in The Studio. M is a person that knows me almost better than I know myself. On the day of our final dress rehearsal I went out for lunch with a friend. It was great seeing her again. I then went back to The Studio and I gave an absolutely crummy performance. While M was giving me notes afterwards, she flipped her lid when she heard that I had been out to lunch with a friend.

“But, M, I didn’t have any wine, I promise!”

“It’s not the wine I am furious about. It’s you! Having lunch with someone you have to concentrate – particularly in a restaurant! You have brain damage, Gaynor!” She paused as if to let this sink in. And then in a softer tone, “You have your first performance tomorrow. I want all your concentration to be on that. Not on the friends you are lunching with. During these next two weeks your performance is what I want you to focus on. Totally!”

My preview went well. “And it’ll go even better tomorrow night!” said M.

I arrived at the theatre on Opening Night a bundle of nerves. Maralin and Karen, my Stage-Manager were already there. They had been adding bits to my set and it looked good. In my dressing room I found a letter from M.

“Shine as bright as you always do! Remember:

JUST TELL EACH STORY WITH IT’S OWN SPECIAL ENERGY AND COMMIT YOURSELF TO EVERY DETAIL OF IT’S SPECIFIC EMOTIONAL TRUTH.

You have made the journey. Now take us on that journey with you.

With you all the way, my friend.

Love and bless you

Maralin”

Mum and Dad came to my dressing room before my show to give me my three roses. It had long been a tradition for Mum to give me three Antique Silk roses on every opening night. On one opening night she didn’t do it because I let them know very late on the Saturday morning that I was on that afternoon – Camelot!

She has never missed again!

That night my dressing room was filled with flowers from so many people wishing me well. Oh glory! I was a nervous wreck. I walked to a dark corner backstage and had a much needed chat to God. “Lord, I am freaking out here! I am truly going to need your help. You know that I can’t memorise words so each performance is different. I have to go “as the spirit moves me.”Please let your Spirit move me tonight! So…so over to you, Lord.”

The lights went down. I stood in the wings, acutely aware of my deafness, waiting for my flashing light from Karen which was my signal to move onstage. “Please, Lord, don’t let me make a fool of myself?” I prayed again. FLASH, FLASH, FLASH! Oh, shoot! Here I go…

The light came up on me standing with my back to the audience. Then as if hearing a call my head spun around. Facing the audience I gave a slow delighted smile and my first line came out:“Well, I never!”

I was away. My story had begun…..

I got a standing ovation that night. It was only when I saw M’s face afterwards that I finally relaxed. “Now…that was performing!” she said as she hugged me.

On the third night I gave a great show which was in turn reciprocated by a fabulous audience. I was just slipping into my trousers afterwards when there was a knock at my dressing room door. Without waiting for a reply the door opened and there was Janet. She didn’t say anything. Merely embraced me. For a long time. Her eyes were wet.

I love performing. Because I was unable to hear, M made sure that the lights showed up the first two rows for me. I had to be able to see when people were laughing, when they were clapping. I also saw the faces of people. I saw the man whose wife had obviously dragged him there, much against his will. His eyes were bored and a touch resentful.

I began performing. Gradually I saw the resentment disappear. I saw him begin to listen with interest. I saw him collapse with laughter at some of my funny moments. I saw the tears rolling down his cheeks as I concluded with i thank you God for most this amazing day. Yes, I thought – Gotcha!

Me, after the show with my old friend Bob Martin, the theatre photographer and Dad

After the show one night, I was drinking a glass of wine with friends when I was tapped on my shoulder. A man with a spastic left hand greeted me: “Yes,” he smiled acknowledging my look of recognition and moving his hand. “The same as you except I’m lucky, I’m right handed!” We introduced ourselves and then he said: “I so enjoyed your show. You showed me the joy of living. I had forgotten. Thankyou!”

I smiled.

God smiled with me.

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The Great Escape!

Gaynor Young — Sat, 21 Sep 2013 05:06:38 +0000

One Christmas when I still lived in Durban, I flew to George to spend the holiday with my family. Because Mum and Dad’s house was so full of guests, for my first four days before Christmas I slept in the back room with my nieces, Kirsten and Sarah. Oh yes, forgot to mention a vital point…..Pandora, my cockatiel, always came with me. So while I flew normal economy class, my poor Angel was put on with the baggage. As the baggage disappeared from view she shrieked the entire way and two hours later as I stood in George airport waiting to collect my luggage, I gave a joyful sigh as I heard the familiar shrieks emerge with the baggage once more. Pandora had arrived intact and was letting the world know. So I must amend that sentence. I shared a room with Kirsten, Sarah and Pandora. What a Goon-show!

On Christmas Eve, Mum very kindly said: “Should I take Pandora through to your room for you?”

“Thanks, Mums,” I was in the middle of a discussion with Dad. “And then could you cover her for the night.” It was Pandora’s normal time for bed – 10.30pm. So Mum and Pandora duly left and I continued talking.

Now in order for this story to have any impact I must first describe our house’s layout from the lounge to my room. It is a large lounge which you leave by turning left into the dining room. Then left once again and you find yourself in our kitchen. Which is large! Mum is “in haar noppies” because at long last she owns a BIG kitchen. Then you go down a passage which in turn passes the shower and loo until finally you reach the bedroom of Kirsten, Sarah, Pandora and Gaynor.

Fine the plot is laid out and now the story can begin! Da Da Da Duuuuuuummmmmmmm……….Just some slightly suspenseful music to get you in the mood. (I can see your smile beginning, admit it!)

About half an hour later I got up from the chair I was sitting in and went to kiss Dad goodnight. I took a step then turned back to him to make a final remark. That was when I heard it.

“Bbbrroooppphhh!”

There at my ankles was Pandora! I looked at her in stupefaction. How had she managed to get out of her cage? Even more important to my way of thinking: How had she managed to find me? Well, okay, I did speak fairly loudly at that time, this is pre-cochlear implants, so she must have simply followed the sound of my voice. But she was only able to walk. Just before the holidays I had cut her one wing. I often had her out her cage and I wanted to make sure that she was completely landlocked, if you know what I mean. Have you ever seen a cockatiel walk? It’s actually amazingly cute. They waddle from side to side. But it takes a total age for them to move any distance! Now here was Pandora, who had promptly travelled half the house to find me. And…..wait for it…we had two large cats who often regarded Pandora sitting in her cage, literally pulling a tongue at them, with great feline avidity.

Mum was nearly in tears when I tackled her about it.

“But I shut the cage. I would never leave it open. And then I covered her….”

I actually believed Mum. So I have no idea how Pandora escaped and set off on her mission. And no, Kirsten and Sarah were dead to the world. I said to my parents: “I just thank God that one of the cats didn’t devour her. If that had happened I would probably have spent Christmas in a mental home!”

My Mum didn’t find that remark very funny (after my accident she was told by one doctor to ‘put me in an Institution and forget she ever had a daughter!’), but at that moment humour was the furtherest thing from my thoughts!

But can you believe it? My Angel-Face escaped and found me!

I loved that little golden bundle of joy!

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A Blanket of Love!

Gaynor Young — Fri, 06 Sep 2013 06:17:35 +0000

Lady Jane Grey, aka Spencer!

Norene Blom lives in the flat opposite me. She is a lovely girl with a sparkle in her eye and a ready smile. I like her! Whenever I go away, she very kindly “bird-sits” for me. Spencer, my cockatiel, can be an extraordinary pain. Whenever a “new” person is in his vicinity he shouts loudly, loving the attention he duly gets. He can be a very loud companion at times!

I must just tell you a bit about Spencer. He was given to me by Nola Muller when my previous cockatiel, Pandora, died. Nola told me that Spencer was a girl and so she was duly christened: Lady Jane Grey. Lady Jane and I got on really well. In the mornings while lying in bed with my coffee I would whistle Bridge over the River Kwai to her and pretty soon she was whistling it back to me. I was delighted. When I flew to visit Mum and Dad in George, Lady Jane obviously came too. Lady Jane gave them a full rendition of Bridge over the River Kwai and they were duly impressed, as I knew they would be. Mum said to me: “That is marvellous. But, Gaynor, you do realise that female birds can’t sing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Female birds can’t sing. This is a male bird.”

And that was when Lady Jane Grey became Spencer!

Now, I have diverted somewhat. Back to my flat mate, Norene! I noticed that she had a beautiful cover on her bed made up of cream and brown knitted squares. I remarked on it and she told me that her mother had knitted it for her. When I then met her Mum I commented on it. Her mother, Carleen, said to me: “You like it? Okay, I will knit you one. What colours would you like?”

“What colours? Glory!” I said, “Um…well, lots of different colours. Red, blue, green, purple. A mish-mash of colours.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“Wow, thanks!” I said not really expecting her to follow through. I then went overseas for three weeks. I had a wonderful time but it was so good coming back and walking into my own apartment once more. Before going away I had spent eight weeks at my Mother’s home due to my broken hands. I wasn’t able to wet my hands so Mum had to bath me. This was the first time in eleven weeks that I was back “home” again. I put my case down in my lounge and surveyed my surroundings. Oh, it looked good. I took my coat off and walked into my bedroom. I stopped in amazement. The most lovely, bright and colourful bedspread met my eyes. Carleen had followed through and created the most beautiful cover for this woman she barely knew.

I was totally gobsmacked! What a gift. She had sat knitting those squares by hand for a girl she had met just once, and created this wonder!

A unique gift coming from an enormous hearted person.

I treasure that blanket.

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Pandora’s Surprise!

Gaynor Young — Mon, 05 Aug 2013 20:16:40 +0000

I have to tell you about Pandora, my yellow cockatiel. I got her when she was 6 weeks old and I adored her. At this time, I lived in Durban in a block of flats that did not allow dogs but they said ‘yes’ to birds and that is how Pandora came to live with me. She believed with all her heart that she was a human being. No, seriously, she did. She thought that whatever I put in my mouth she could eat too. I had to explain to her that no, she would not enjoy yoghurt. But she saw it going into my mouth and I was obviously enjoying it…why wouldn’t she? It was only after tasting it off my tongue that…okay, I could have a point. When I’m eating chewing gum she was a bloody pain. She was mad about biltong and also was quite keen on red wine!

One night she was sitting on top of her cage and made it very obvious that she wanted to come to me. I collected her, put her on my shoulder, went and sat down and continued reading my book. But Pandora wasn’t happy with sitting on my shoulder and ventured downwards until she was sitting on my stomach. Then she burrowed herself underneath my pyjama top and seemed quite happy to stay there. An hour later I got ready to move to bed. I called Pandora out and put her on my shoulder and stood up.

An egg rolled out of my pyjamas! Fortunately I managed to catch it. Pandora had laid an egg on my stomach!

My darling bird. She was treating me as a daughter would her mother. She wanted to give birth with Mum there to hold her hand. Sigh!

My Pandora……….

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