Pirates for a Day

Unfortunate circumstances brought us to the Island last weekend. An Aunt of mine passed away, and we were there for the funeral. Since it costs a bazillion dollars to use a BC Ferry, we thought we’d make the most of it and stay an extra day on the Island. Besides, Colin and I needed to decompress, and the kids needed some fun time to be loud and act as kids.

We had 24 hours of fun, skiing Mount Washington (well, the bottom part of it), swimming, watersliding, and Jacuzzi tubbing. After checkout, we had loads of time to leisurely make our way to the ferry.

We took our time, stopping at some beaches, and the Coombs Market that has the goats on the roof. As we were driving, we saw a sign for a Parrot Refuge in Coombs. We still had a few hours until our ferry, so we thought we’d inquire about it.

We drove into the lot and saw a sign stating “please pay for admission in the thrift shop”. The thrift shop? That’s odd, but okay.

I went in to ask for admission prices, and I got a whole spiel about the refuge and the birds within. In a nutshell: most of the parrots are donated by owners who can’t care for them anymore, and the others are rescued, often in bad physical shape. They are nursed back to health, and released into the massive enclosures of like-parrots where they will spend the rest of their days. Some of the parrots are even living outside of the enclosures. Flying free… well… as a bird.

As she’s talking, I am distracted by the squawks in the thrift shop. Maybe she noticed, because she explained, “We even have a parrot palliative care unit here in the thrift shop”, as she gestured toward a thin curtain near the back of the shop, not unlike one you’d see separating gurneys in an emergency room.

Hmmm. Creeeepy. As soon as I could get her to take a breath in her sales pitch, I went back to the car to report the admission price to Colin. I thought we’d be on our way at that point, but “Let’s go in!”, he said. “It’ll be fun!”, he said.

Much to my surprise, I head back in to pay. After completing the transaction, she gave me a set of verbal instructions/warnings far too vast to remember or list all of them.

Such as:

-         In some areas, parrots walk around. Be careful you don’t step on them

-         Don’t take your purse. They’ll try to get in it

-         No hats. They’ll try to take them.

-         When you walk down the halls, they’ll try to reach out and grab you

-         Don’t worry if they start pecking your shoes or laces

-         Parrots bite

With that, she handed me four pairs of earplugs and told me to enjoy myself.

I gave a quizzical glance to which she replied, “It’s pretty noisy in there, ha ha haaa!”.

As we walked toward the massive 23,000 square foot Refuge, I reflected on my contempt for birds. Why on EARTH am I heading into a Parrot Refuge? I hate birds. I can appreciate their beauty, but something about them scares me. Could it be the beady eyes? The spastic noises? The large talons? The sharp beaks that could pluck out my eyeballs? Plus, they seem to have an understated intelligence and confidence that makes me feel inferior. {shudder}

We walked into the building and are immediately greeted by a noise wall of squawks and screams (I think coming from birds). A Cockatoo started walking towards us. We exit the building.

Wow. Who knew we needed the same ear protection that we did for the Monster Jam show?

We inserted the earplugs. The Cockatoo had made its way to the front door and was peering out at us with his eyelid-less googly eyes. We worried that it would escape if we opened the door, but it was only interested in following us around.

The first corridor was odd. I’ll call it the “Parrot Rehab” room. There are parrots to your left. Parrots to your right. Parrots in front, overhead and underfoot. Some were in cages, but most were given the freedom to go wherever they wanted. I give props to the kids for not being terrified! The birds didn’t look too healthy here. Some were missing most of their feathers, missing talons, and one had a large bloody sore on his belly. I felt bad for them, but secretly wished the whole Refuge wasn’t going to be like this. It wasn’t.

Through the next door was my favourite room. The Macaw room. There was a walkway between two massive enclosures. They really are given a lot of room to fly! There were dozens upon dozens of beautiful macaws of every colour of the rainbow, and they were all…behind bars! I was glad because these birds are HUGE. Much bigger than I thought they’d be. Capable of carrying Evan off, perhaps?

Next was the Cockatoo room. Another 100% caged environment. Stink, those birds are L-O-U-D. As we made our way down the walkway, we met a Cockatoo. I’m serious. We literally MET him. He said, “Hi” or “Hello” to each one of us, and stuck out his talons to be shaken. Despite Colin’s fear that the bird would actually pull him through the fence and attack him, he still was courteous and shook the Cockatoo’s talon. Since most of these birds have been trained pets, many could talk. The kids LOVED that.

Just as my heart rate was returning to normal, and I was really starting to enjoy myself, we got to….

The “Amazon and Africa” House.

We walked through the door into utter mayhem. There were birds flying EV-RY-WHERE. And not just little ones…majestic Macaws and cranky Cockatoos. Eclectus parrots, and African Greys.

I felt like I was in a horror movie! I couldn’t turn my back on anything because there was feathered evil planning my demise at all angles! They’d fly so close to my head that I could feel the wind of their wings on my ears! I walked past these Macaws, who watched me, close enough to peck out my eyeballs.

Then one took a swipe at my phone! AHHH SAVE ME!!!

We weren’t in there very long when the first parrot flew up to Colin and landed on his shoulder. Let's name this one "Nice". The two of them formed quite a bond in the next 30 minutes or so. I’m not sure why Colin was the preferred perch. Possibly because he was wearing all brown and is tall and thin (think: tree)? Perhaps he is a pirate? Whatever the case, bird after bird kept landing on his shoulders and arms, sometimes in pairs!

The kids and I thought it was a hoot. Most of the time, Colin did too. I knew already that he is an animal whisperer, I just didn’t know he is also a bird whisperer (although if you whisper anything in that room…nothin’s hearing ya).

He even had some quality time with Psycockatoo:

We went into another section of the room with a table of food. The birds help themselves. Nice followed him and sat on his shoulder. Colin kept giving food to Nice, but it would fling it to the side every time.

Psycockatoo also followed. On foot. Which is almost more creepy than flying. I mean, he’s got wings and he can fly. But he’s so nonchalant and confident that he can get you even without rushing. Like the killers in the movies who walk after their victims.

I took my eyes off of Psycockatoo to take photos and videos of the kids. Suddenly, I look beside me and see him:

…right beside my head… ready to eat my ear.

What happened next, all took place in about 15 seconds. A bird landed on Nathan and he handled it well. I’m frantically trying to switch my iPhone from video to photo setting when out of nowhere…a parrot lands on MY shoulder! I freak out instantly. It’s akin to a spider landing in your lap. A snake in your toilet when you lift the lid. A rat in your bed when you pull down the sheets.

Colin got the phone and tried to take a photo of what he called an “epic” facial expression (instead of scaring the feathered beast off of me). Alas, the phone was full.

I don’t even know what bird was on my shoulder. I just know it wasn’t Psycockatoo, because Psycockatoo was on the floor biting Evan’s hand!!!

His hand is purple with a triangle dent on it.

I picked him up and ran outta there like Napoleon Dynamite fleeing a chicken coop. Once outside, we cuddled and cursed the “Naughty Bird” over and over.

“I only wanted to feel his soft feathers”, said Evan.

“Sweetie, mommy warned you not to put your hands near the birds”, I gently remind him once the shrieking subsided.

“I couldn’t hear you!! I was wearing earplugs!!”.

Touché.

Our nightmare is over, but Nate and Colin are still in there. As we walk the grounds gathering nutshells to calm Evan down, I wonder why there are acresof rows of shrubbery growing. Are you a plant nursery, Parrot Refuge, or Thrift Store? Make up your mind!

What I know they AREN’T is sanitary. I asked where the hand washing station is, and they looked at me like I was speaking Greek. They said there is sanitizer in the Thrift Store. One woman said she thinks she could find water somewhere. 

Back in the Refuge, the other boys are enjoying themselves when the Mother-of-all-Parrots (let’s call him Goliath) decided to perch on the Colin tree. Look at this guy’s beak!

SCARY. He is probably over 3 feet tall.

Colin isn’t one to always follow the rules. The staff told me to leave my purse in the car. At first, I thought they were planning on robbing me while I was in there. I wanted to keep it with me so they could identify my body if needed, but upon risk of a bird getting in my purse and then coming home with me, I listened.

Colin didn’t listen when they said not to wear his hat. So when Goliath was on Colin’s shoulder, he tried to steal his hat. He used the jaws-of-life beak of his to peck at Colin’s head to remove his hat. Nathan was howling with laughter, Colin was not.

When they were done, they came out to meet us. We left feeling relieved, mad, excited, in awe, and covered in a layer of avian flu germs. 

(Even though the whole experience was downright sketchy,  I am actually glad we went. The staff love the birds and are giving them a much better life. Keep up the good work, but please install a handwashing station)