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Alex the African Grey Parrot Dies
grrlscientist writes "Yesterday, I received the devastating news that Alex the African Grey parrot, who was both a study subject and colleague to Irene Pepperberg, died unexpectedly at 31 years of age. 'Even though Alex was a research animal, he was much more than that. This species of parrot generally lives to be 50-60 years old, so Alex was only middle-aged when he died. According to some reports I have read, it is possible that Alex might have succumbed to Aspergillosis, a fungal infection of the lungs that he has battled in the past. However, the cause of death will not be known until after a necropsy has been completed... Alex's veterinarian is returning from vacation to personally conduct this necrospy.'"
Well... it has more significance with some species than others. Greys are notorious for feather plucking. It's not a good sign, but greys can develop it even out of habit. Now, if you see an amazon that's all plucked, that means that something is seriously not right.
Reading about this broke my heart. As a parrot owner myself, you hope that your bird outlives you. And yet, in some ways, they're just so delicate. You can't take a nap next to your parrot because you might roll onto it. You have to keep their wings clipped, or they might fly into a ceiling fan, or a burner, or escape (which in most places is a death sentence due to hawks, inclement weather, etc). You have to be very careful when using teflon, because the fumes from overheating teflon are very poisonous to parrots. You have to be careful about smoke of all kinds, because they tend to perch high and are sensitive to smoke (all birds are sensitive to bad air due to their highly efficient lungs -- hence a "canary in a coal mine"). You can't give them caffine, chocolate, avocado, and all sorts of other things. And on and on. I once read about a person who had raised an African Grey for a decade, and got it a mate. After a long time, they finally bred, and at long last, the chicks hatched. He was so happy for them, and wanted them to keep their strength up, so he picked them an avocado off his tree. Didn't know they were poisonous to parrots. Came back an hour later, and the whole family was dying.
It's so easy to grow attached to a parrot as you would a child. You know, when you have a dog or a cat, they have their own world. You love them, but they're a different species, and they never really attempt to blur the line. A dog happily sticks its head in a bowl of dog food, runs around with a wagging tail, sniffs other dogs, and in general has its own little world. Parrots tend to live in your world. Mal, my amazon (named after Mal from Firefly), takes part in our life. He goes with us when we go outside, and even on the plane when we travel cross country (he's small enough to take as carry-on). He eats off our plates, the same food we eat, every meal (we're vegetarians; our diet is very similar to his natural diet). You don't "pet" him -- if he wants to be scratched, he'll let you, but he's just as likely to want to "scratch" (preen) you back. . It's a mutual social relationship, not a relationship where you only give. He goes to the bathroom on command (although he still has the occasional accident). He asks for up when he wants it ("I want up"). He invented a tradition of kissing before meals when he's really happy (rather than walk straight to the food, he walks over to us and says "Kiss!" and then kisses us). When he does something wrong that we've taught him is wrong, he often tries to hide it, just like a little kid. He solves puzzles better than children his age -- seriously. At just six months old, he figured how to get at an inaccessible treat ball by grabbing it by its support rope, hauling the rope to a safe spot, and wrapping it in place so it would stay while he ate. He can take apart wooden clothespins in less than 15 seconds, unbutton the clasps on my shirts, and once even removed the hinge pin to take apart a kitchen magnet (took us a half hour to get it back together -- we only gave it to him because we didn't see a way *we* could have taken it apart). He even addresses us by name -- I kid you not. I'm "Kareh" (Karen), and my partner is "Elay" (Elaine). If I'm fixing dinner, and he's getting impatient, I'll invariably hear, "Kareh! I want up!" If the wrong person tries to pick him up, he gets angry.
Yet, he's just a year and a half old. Like a Grey, he should live to be 50-60.
When something knows your name, it's hard not to see them as a family member... I really feel for Dr. Pepperberg and her staff right now.
By a scallop's forelocks!