Our Feathered Friend

I don't know how many of you out there know this, but my parents have a bird. She's an African Grey and her name is Gaby. We've had her for about 17 years now and she's supposed to live anywhere in between 40 and 80 years. Believe it or not, she's actually in the will! Gaby has entertained us for many years with her antics. In addition to teaching her all kinds of funny phrases that she'll blurt out at inappropriate times (most notably when she said "Whatever" during a momentary lull during a French Bible study at our house), she's amused us in other ways too. We let her out of her cage periodically--she just likes to sit on top of it and act like she's taller than everyone else-- and once she flew straight into the blinds and got herself tangled. Another time she flew right into the Christmas tree (it must've been all the dazzling lights). A few months after we taught her the wolf whistle, she did it as grandma was walking out of the bathroom wearing only a towel.... Ah good times.
Within the past few years, she's become what I like to call "psycho". She used to like me a lot but I noticed in high school that she would squawk furiously whenever I entered the room. Recently she's begun to pluck her feathers out so that she looks half bald... and half insane. We think maybe she's lonely but apparently there's "no way" we're getting another bird to keep her company. She also has some kind of problem with her nose and her nostrils are really big and stuffy. Oh, and her beak looks cracked but I'm not sure if it is.
The reason I mention Gaby is that we were at a garden store yesterday that was selling different kinds of birds. I saw three African Greys for sale and they all looked young, beautiful, and normal. (They were also quite expensive.) Maybe that's a good thing because if we brought another one home, Gaby might get jealous.... Poor bird. She's a mess but I love her anyway.