The (Infinite) Chirps of Christmas

The (Infinite) Chirps of Christmas

         The story started on the 25^th of December, at approximately 8:30 A: M when my little sister started jumping on my bed yelling something unintelligible. I yelled, “Calm down,” but it took a few minutes before my sister’s brain was able to process the request. At least my tired brain was able to process what my dear sister was “saying rationally”. I heard bits and pieces of “Come down!”, “It's Christmas”, and a bit of excited squealing. I got the message, so I pushed myself out of bed, and slowly walked down the stairs, my feet dragging over every right angle. I turned to look at the tree, and my own excitement was unearthed. Presents were stacked up high around the perimeter. I rushed over, ready to separate my gifts from my sister’s, but upon further inspection, I found that the lot was for my sibling. My heart sunk, but I held out hope. I dug through the pile, growing more and more distraught as each tag I read was from either “Santa”, or “The Elf on the Shelf”, or Mom and Dad, and all of it was for my sister. I checked the stockings as well. My sister’s was full to the brim, but mine only had a candy cane in it. As I sadly started back up the stairs back up to my room, something caught my eye. A small, neatly wrapped box placed innocently underneath the tree, blending in with the green leaves. I thought I had already checked that one, but I still walked toward it, hoping against hope that I might get something, anything, for Christmas (other than the almighty candy cane, of course). I picked up the little box. It was no bigger than a cup, but it had a fair weight to it. I shook it gently, not wanting to disturb the contents. It could be a new gaming mouse, I decided. Or a phone. But when my parents came down and my sister was opening her infinite presents, I looked questionably at my parents, holding the tiny box. My dad was stoic-faced, but my mom cracked a smile. She feigned opening a box, and when I finally got it, I opened the little present.

And was it a surprise indeed.

Before I continue, I need to give you some context. My friend has a pet parrot named Chirpy. I love Chirpy. I probably love him more than my friend does. But a few months ago, my friend moved to California and took Chirpy with him. He sends me videos of Chirpy every now and again, but it isn’t the same as having Chirpy sitting on your head. Even though I love birds like Chirpy, I don’t have the foggiest idea on how to bathe, feed, and care for any animal, much less a bird. So, you can imagine my surprise when inside my minuscule present was not a mouse, or a phone, or even a tiny book, but a pack of birdseed and a note that said, “for our new member of the family”. I was super excited. My sister’s jealous look was the icing on the cake. My first thought was “Who needs presents! I’m getting a bird for Christmas”! I thought I could take care of such a bird, and I was going to love that bird-like I loved Chirpy. And my bird, hopefully, would love me back. But I forgot Dad’s golden rule: Thinking about how something is going to go isn’t going to influence how it really will go.

         The next day, I was riding home in the car holding a cage with a yellow-green, tiny, and ruffled up parrot. For the time being, I thought I would call him Lime. Lime was quite the perfect parrot. I said he would stay in my room, and the saga started. I forgot to feed him so many times, to the point where he almost starved. I forgot to bathe him so many times, when we took him to the vet, he was the, and to quote, “The dirtiest bird the vet has ever seen”, according to the nurse. The only thing he got all he needed was attention. I loved him like I did Chirpy, but I didn’t realize how much I was neglecting him, until that one day when he was sadly walking around his cage, feathers rustled, thinner than normal, and slower than usual. I let him out of the cage, careful to close my window and door so he couldn’t hurt himself outside or inside, and expected him to fly onto my head like Chirpy usually did. But, instead, he flew a short distance away from me and sat on my desk. He seemed exhausted from flying two strides of mine. I sat down until I was on his level, and I saw what a fool I’d been. He had attention, but no care. I knew that if I were to give this bird justice, I’d have to learn how to take care of him, fully and completely. I started researching about his species, his needs, and his wants. All the time, he was standing right next to my computer, intrigued by the countless pictures of himself and the food he loved. I gave a list of needs to my mother, and she drove me out to the pet store, and I was sure to check the brand name, quality, and quantity. I caught a few glimpses of my mom’s face, and she was looking a bit surprised, and a tiny bit proud. I got what I needed, didn’t ask for candy, and headed out with all the supplies to make Lime happy again.

         It took a bit of time to get into a routine. I first had to set super loud alarms all over the house to feed, bathe, and let out Lime, but eventually, I knew when by heart. Lime grew to a healthy size, started chirping loudly again, and was able to fly great distances (12 times around my room) without getting tired. I started teaching him some tricks, such as fly (hover in place for a bit), glide (slowly float down from high places), stay and follow. Pretty soon, he was flying gently behind me and staying in places when I went to get food. He slept at the time I slept, and I could leave him outside his cage for long times and take him for short walks. Lime and Chirpy became fast friends through video calls, and I knew I had done the right thing in learning how to actually take care of animals. But even though I knew Lime had warmed up almost perfectly to me, it still caught me off guard when I opened his cage, and without a single hesitation, Lime flew up and out of the cage, landing swiftly and firmly right on my head. It sure was a 4 months after Christmas miracle.